The Burning Season
by mabelreid
Summary: A Halloween story. The team is called to Danvers Mass, the modern day village of Salem. Young women are missing and dying horrible deaths, but no one seems to know how or why. Is it a vicious killer with an affinity for fire, or the work of a supernatural foe? Takes place after season eight. Told with particular emphasis on the POV of Reid no pairings no romance
1. Prologue - The Burning

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

_**A/n this story is nearly complete, so you will have fairly regular updates. I started writing this in July, so the time frame is set after season eight, but none of what happens in season nine will be dealt with in this story as canon. Also, a warning. This story has many supernatural elements because it is my Halloween story for this year, if you don't like the supernatural, turn back now. **_

_**Prologue - The Burning **_

_**October 3**__**rd**__** 1692 **__- __**Salem Village, Massachusetts**_

Low voices murmured in counterpoint to the beating of drums as the town's people watched Abigail Hawthorne tied to a tall wooden stake in the town square. A light breeze ruffled dresses and teased the hats and bonnets worn by the inhabitants of the village. The smell of fear permeated the nostrils of the men closest to the stake and drifted over the heads of the men and women gathered to watch the execution of another witch.

The young woman, clothed in a filthy dress and tattered apron struggled against the men who dragged her toward her awful death.

"I am innocent," she cried.

Her voice rang through the square and several people gasped and drew back from her as though she carried some virulent disease.

Someone threw an old apple core from the middle of the crowd. It smacked the girl's head. She tripped and nearly fell, but the men around her yanked her up to her feet. Suddenly the air was full of missiles that pelted the condemned woman about the face, abdomen and her feet. Some of the refuse hit her captors, but they ignored it. They wrestled her to the stake and tied her fast as the full moon began to rise in the ebony and star filled sky. The wind rose from a breeze that merely fluttered the torch flames, to wind that nearly blew them out.

"**Burn the witch!"**

One voice shouted into the wind, but soon everyone called, 'burn the witch' and it became a chant as the men climbed down from the pyre and reached for their torches. It rose and fell until even the animals fell silent against its might.

"Hear me," the accused shouted over all of them. "I, Abigail Hawthorne condemn you all."

Her cerulean blue eyes seemed to blaze in the orange light of the torches and the golden light of the full moon.

"Under this full moon I call upon the powers of darkness to avenge my death. As I burn so shall you burn. I shall arise from the grave and bring sorrow and the gnashing of teeth. Beware the rise of the full moon and the golden triangle."

"Enough," shouted a man near the pile of wood and stake silhouetted against the black sky and stars. "Abigail Hawthorne, thou art condemned to death for the murder by witchcraft of Sarah Sanderson. Thou shalt suffer death by fire. May it cleanse thy soul."

Abigail Hawthorne began to laugh as the men lit her pyre on fire. The crackling of the flames, and the whisper of the wind, added counterpoint to shouts of the people who had resumed their chant of, "Burn the witch."

Abigail laughed and then screamed as the flames consumed the pyre and began to lick at her skin and hair. She howled up at the moon and then all was silence as the people watched her body burn black.

_**Later - Midnight.**_

A figure clothed in ebony approached the empty town square and the pile of ashes that still smoldered in the autumn air. A hand reached down and swept up some of the wood ash and some of the partially burned flesh.

The hand, blood red in color, dropped it's find into a leather bag and tied it tight with rawhide and the finger bone of a young child. The figure turned and hurried away into the forest. It seemed to vanish into the blackness of the night as though it had never been there.


	2. Missing Gecko

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

_**Missing Gecko**_

_**Present Day - Quantico, Virginia**_

"Damn," he hissed under his breath when his coffee maker failed to make his favorite beverage.

It was bad enough that he woke forty minutes late because his alarm clock decided not to work for some strange reason, but then he couldn't find his favorite pair of mismatched socks. Maybe the dryer really did eat them.

He put the chipped, orange, coffee cup back on the shelf and tried to remind himself that he didn't have time for his beverage of choice. He'd have to settle for the sludge at work.

"Damn," he said again.

He looked at his watch and hurried to his messenger bag. He threw it over his head and grabbed his coat and scarf. It was late October, and the weatherman said it might freeze that night.

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped out without really looking where he was going and ran straight into his neighbor, Ms. Cavanaugh. She stumbled back on three-inch heels and cursed.

"What the hell?"

"Sorry, I'm late."

"Wait," she grabbed his arm as he tried to get around her.

He shook her off and she narrowed her green eyes at him. "Have you seen Lester?"

"What?"

"Lester, my Leopard Gecko," she explained as though she shouldn't have to explain it to him.

"No," he said impatiently. "I haven't seen him. I'm sorry, I gotta go. I'm late. I hope you find him."

He left her there staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest. She huffed out a breath and turned to knock on his neighbor's door.

He sincerely hoped, as he ran down the stairs to the building's door that her Gecko stayed away from his apartment. The last thing he needed was to step on it in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.

He'd made to it the train with seconds to spare and then the train stopped on the tracks for no reason and just sat there for five agonizing minutes. Someone said something over the loud speaker, which he couldn't make out and then the train lurched forward and they were on their way.

As he hurried into the conference room, he counted it lucky that the sky overhead, which had threatened rain since he'd rolled out of bed, didn't pour down on him.

He nearly skidded to a surprised halt to see only Morgan and Blake around the table. Hotch was always early, and since Garcia had taken over the spot of presenting cases, she prided herself on getting to the conference room before the team.

"Hi," he squeaked, and then cleared his throat.

"Good morning," Blake said.

"Hey, kid, how was your weekend?"

"The same as always, no plans."

"You need to get out more," Morgan lectured.

"Don't start," Blake said.

"Yeah, please don't start," Rossi added from the doorway. "It's too early on a Monday morning."

A moment later Hotch followed JJ into the conference room, with Garcia bringing up the rear. Her blonde hair seemed to bristle out of the braids she'd tied off with orange ribbons as she addressed them.

"The town of Danvers, Massachusetts needs your attention. In the last three weeks, there have been three brutal killings of young teens. All of them were teenage girls between the ages of fourteen and seventeen.

Morgan whistled and Rossi actually crossed himself when the first crime scene photos appeared on screen. Garcia stared at her laptop instead of the white board. Her face was the color of spoiled milk and her fingers shook.

"My God," JJ said softly. "Why?"

"That's the question of the day," Blake said, but her eyes had taken on a hard cast.

Every victim had died in an upright position, strapped to a stake and burned so black they were completely unrecognizable as human.

"All of the victims were found near historical sites," Garcia said.

"Danvers is located in Essex County," Reid said without looking up from his file. "On the Danvers River near the northeastern coast of Massachusetts. Originally known as Salem Village, it's most widely known for its association with the witch trials in 1692. It has a population of 25,642 as of the 2010 census."

"Are we looking at someone that's trying to reenact the witch trials?" JJ wondered aloud.

"No," Reid said with such conviction that they all stared at him.

"What?"

"You sound so sure," Morgan said.

"It's a common misconception that witches were burned at the stake. In truth, the so-called Salem witches were hanged except for one man who was pressed to death with large stones."

"Let's not get caught up in the hysterics of the past," Hotch said. "We need to build a profile as if this had happened anywhere but Salem."

Morgan studied the photographs of the kids as they'd been in life. They were all fairly ordinary. The teens were sweetly pretty and innocent. All of them were white, blonde and blue-eyed. "He has a type," he commented. "Was the medical examiner able to determine if they were sexually assaulted?"

"No," Garcia said with a grimace. "The heat was so intense it destroyed most of the body's tissues fairly quickly."

"That can't be," Reid said with a frown. "Cremation takes at least five to six hours on average. The human body is very resistant to fire unless the heat is high and prolonged. That's why burning down a building to cover up a murder never works."

"I don't know what to tell you," Garcia said. "I'm still waiting on more details from the ME."

"Reid, I want you to talk to the ME when we get there. Find out what kind of accelerant was used if their test results are back, if not find out what you can from the autopsy reports."

Reid nodded and went back to perusing the file. He wanted to be secretly excited about a trip to "Salem," so near Halloween, but this year… He shook his head and peeked up under his eyelashes to see if anyone noticed the headshake. They hadn't, so he sighed under his breath and returned his attention to the briefing.

"In the absence of the usual indicators I'd say all we can go on so far is male, white and over thirty," Rossi said. "It takes a lot of planning and patience to do this."

"I agree," Hotch said. "This isn't the impulse of youth."

"There's a lot of rage behind this," JJ said. "I mean, this death is so violent and to be tied to a stake like that… Sorry," she continued. "Got a little carried away there."

Hotch inclined his head and even though he tried to hide it, there was pity in his dark eyes, pity and the anger they all felt at the useless waste of life.

"I wish it wasn't kids," Reid said softly, so softly, that is was almost as though he spoke to himself without realizing it. No one answered him and they dispersed to the plane without their usual banter.


	3. A Question of Heat

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A Question of Heat_**

When the team boarded the jet, Morgan took a seat across from Reid. He handed his friend a cup of coffee. "You look like you could use it, kid."

"Just a bad morning," Reid said, but he didn't look up from his file.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"No," Reid waved it off. "It was just one of those mornings where everything seems to go wrong. I'm sure it'll get better."

"Hey," Morgan persisted.

Reid finally looked up at his partner.

"I was just playing before the briefing, you know that, right."

"I know, sometimes I think I'm never gonna feel right again."

"There's no way I can understand how you feel, but you know I'm there for you."

Reid's chocolate eyes regarded Morgan with their trademark open frankness, but there was pain in them now, pain that had lessened a bit in the last eight months, but it was still there.

"Thanks," Reid said.

"Anytime."

The pilot came on and announced they were cleared to take off. Everyone buckled in and conversation halted until they reached their cruising altitude. Hotch was the first to unbuckle from his seat, when they did, and after the laptop beeped to signal Garcia was with them.

"Hello, crime fighters, I've got more of the 411 on our young victims, she said grimly. The first victim, Tracey Sanderson, was found on the front lawn of The Derby Summer House, which is located on the grounds of Glen Magna Farms

She went missing on sometime on October 6, in the evening. Her parents said she was in her room doing homework and they didn't bother her until the next morning."

"So, she left on her own or was lured out."

"Don't know, my liege," Garcia directed at Hotch. "The locals didn't mention if she was in the habit of sneaking out of her room."

"What about Dana Glanvill?"

"She was on the Homecoming committee at Jefferson High School. She disappeared on October 13, also sometime after sundown. She was supposed to meet with the rest of the kids at Winifred King's home and she never showed up. Her car was found three miles from home near the Danvers River."

"She was killed near The Endicott Pear Tree," JJ interjected with a question in her voice.

"That tree is supposed to be the oldest living cultivated fruit tree in North America. It was planted sometime between 1632 and 1649 by John Endicott."

"Jean Burr went missing on October 20th, again in the evening. She was supposed to be on her way home from babysitting for a neighbor. They live close enough for her to walk. Somewhere in a four block radius, she disappeared," Garcia, continued.

"She was killed near another historical landmark, the Rebecca Nurse Farm."

Hotch studied his tablet silently for a long time. "Rossi," he began. "What do you think?"

"I think we're dealing with someone very dangerous and utterly devoid of human compassion. I know that the very definition of a sociopath is the lack of empathy, but this is beyond a lack of feeling. There's incredible rage and he's not going to stop until we find him."

"Even though the accused of Salem were hanged instead of burned at the stake, there are historical precedents. Joan de' Arc was burned as a heretic, for one example. The Church saw burning as a way to cleanse the soul of evil so that God might have mercy on them."

"The strange thing about these burnings," Reid said, "Is the speed of the burning. In Europe, witches were hanged, and then burned and their ashes scattered. Sometimes they were strangled at the stake and then burned. In France, they were burned alive. We should see if the ME finds any indication that they might have been strangled before they were burned."

"It's a usable theory," Hotch said, "But let's not get too caught up in witches. This un-sub may be trying to distract us and the burning may just be an attempt at forensic countermeasures."

"What about the historical sites?" Blake asked. "It has to mean something to the un-sub."

"We'll split up when we get to Danvers. Blake, you and Morgan go to the Rebecca Nurse House, JJ, you and I will go to The Derby House, and Rossi, you take the Endicott Pear Tree."

"He doesn't seem interested in a cooling off period," JJ observed. "All the teens go missing for two days, they're found burned at the stake and five days later, he has a new victim, one every week."

"The time frame could be important to him, but we won't know until we know more about him," Rossi said.

"He hasn't tried to contact the media," Blake observed. "None of the parents were contacted for ransom and there doesn't appear that anyone stalked any of these kids. In a town the size of Danvers, you'd think that someone would notice a stranger."

"All he'd have to do is blend in and that'd be easy if you're white because ninety-seven percent of the population in Danvers is Caucasian."

"What? No exact demographics."

The rest of the team smiled at Morgan's gentle teasing. Reid ignored him in favor of his file. He frowned over it and JJ was about to comment when he lifted his eyes as if he felt her gaze and something in his face made her change her mind.

He raised his eyebrows and she forced a smile on her face. "What are you thinking?"

He shook his head and went back to studying his file. She kept back the sigh by sheer force of will. If only there was a way to turn back the clock and… She went back to her tablet and the crime scene photos. _You can't turn back time, no matter how much you want to_, she thought.

"I'm getting coffee," Rossi said. "Anyone want more?"

"Yeah," she said out of no real desire.

Rossi went to the back of the plane as talk resumed about the victims. She glanced out the window as they flew through blue skies and pure white clouds that reminded her of billowy cotton.

Everything was sure clean up here, she thought. It was too bad is couldn't be that way once they descended through the clouds and back to earth.

CMCMCMCMCM

It never got easier walking into a morgue. He'd never gotten used to the smell. Despite his lecture to Emily once upon a time, it was sometimes hard to believe the weakness of the sense of smell. Death was always there, under the astringent order of disinfectant and formaldehyde. You couldn't stop Death, it was written in the cards for everyone. It only mattered how and where.

The ME, Dr. Norman Wong, was a compact Asian man with short black hair, and dark eyes that crinkled up when he smiled. He wore blue scrubs, a white lab coat and a face shield.

"You must be Dr. Reid," he said. "Detective Drake said you were on the way. You're here about the three young woman that I wish hadn't ended up on my table."

"Yes," Reid said and gave him his customary wave. "We're wondering about the apparent lack of accelerant on the body."

Dr. Wong turned back a sheet and revealed in the flesh, the most recent victim.

"As you know, it takes high heat and time to reduce the human body to ashes. This body shows definite signs it was subjected to high heat, but the strange thing is that all of the victims were found engulfed in flames. The action of the fire didn't have time to do this kind of damage to the tissues and the internal organs. We had to ID them with dental records."

"Flames, like the kind that you'd see when a candle burns, produce heat at about 1800 degrees F. You can estimate the heat produced by the color of a flame," Reid said.

"Yes, that's true, but the witnesses to the fires said the flames were orange just like the type of fire you'd see in a fireplace. Flames can be cherry, orange or even white. The brightest white flame reaches temperatures of 2700 F."

Reid said. "The average temperature in a crematorium is 1600-1800 F, which is the same as the heat produced by the flame of a candle, but concentrated and applied for an extended period of time."

"The bodies had to have been exposed to temperature above 3000 F or more to do this kind of damage. These remains look like they've been in the crematorium for at least three hours. The fire investigator said they'd been in flames for less than ten minutes."

Reid and the doctor stared down at the charred and blackened bodies. Neither man realized it, but they had identical expressions of puzzlement on their faces.

"There's no known accelerant that could produce heat like this and work as fast as it did." Reid said at length.

"No, not that I'm aware of; but who knows if the government has something like this?"

Reid stared at the man. "You think this is the work of someone in the government."

"No, I think this is the work of a true monster with some kind of advanced training or education. This person must have some kind of connections to get their hands on an accelerant we don't have record of in our database."

"What can you tell me about other injuries? Was there any indication of strangulation or cutting injuries?"

"Not that I can find, but then, the heat's done a good job of destroying any evidence."

"I know the answer, but I'll ask it anyway. Were they sexually assaulted?"

"Again, I can't say for sure. I'll have more definitive results back in a couple of days."

Reid gave him a sympathetic smile. "I don't envy you, your job, Dr. Wong."

"Please just catch this guy. I don't want any more young women on my table.

"We'll do our best."

Reid reached for his phone as soon as he left the morgue. "Garcia," He said I need you to run a check for me."


	4. Witnesses Part One

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**_Witnesses Part One _**

JJ followed Hotch down the concrete drive to The Derby House. It was just after 11 am and a crowd of people waited outside the white two story home.

"Dad, this is so lame," a young girl with blonde hair and eyes the color of cornflowers complained.

"Darcy, what did I say in the car," said a woman with the same color hair and eyes, but a face that was twenty-five or so years older than the girl.

The girl blew out a large pink bubble and popped it noisily, "Whatever, Mom."

"Darcy," her father snapped, then smiled as JJ and Hotch edged by them. "Don't talk to your mother that way and spit out your gum."

"Fine," the girl said, and spit the gum into grass that was still green despite the lateness of the season.

"Darcy Ann Kendall," her mother began as they moved out of earshot.

"I'm not looking forward to the teenage years," JJ said to Hotch out of the corner of her mouth.

The girl had purple streaks in her hair, Hotch noticed and a stud pierced her nose. He grimaced a little and tried not to picture Jack with a tattoo in ten years.

"I'm trying not to think about," he said to JJ.

They maneuvered their way through the people waiting for the tour that was supposed to start in ten minutes.

"This is still a crime scene," JJ hissed. "What is up with these people?"

"Detective Drake said they reopened the house for people, but the yard in back where the body was found is still roped off.

JJ shook her head. "Whose brilliant idea was that?"

"It was mine," said a woman with red hair the color of copper and startling green eyes that reminded JJ of polished gemstones, and they were just as cold.

"They might be a necessary evil, but this town needs ever tourist dollar we can get."

"You must be Councilwoman Proctor."

"Yes," she said and didn't offer her hand to Hotch or JJ.

Her nose was unusually long in JJ's estimation, but she had high cheekbones, and full lips that were frowning at them. She was very tall, about two inches taller than Hotch. JJ glanced down to see that she wore heels about four inches in height and they matched her severe grey suit.

"Councilwoman," Hotch said. "I appreciate you meeting us here, but it wasn't necessary -"

"I'll decide what is necessary, Agent Hotchner. I agreed to calling you in on these murders because the families need closure, but I will not have you disturbing our visitors or limiting their access to our historical sites. Now, why don't you follow me?"

She turned on her heels and began striding around the house. They had no choice but to hurry after her. JJ glanced over at Hotch and saw that his jaw was flexing and his dark eyes promised a tongue-lashing if she didn't tread lightly.

"Hotch, don't you think-," she began in a low whisper.

"We can't dictate to the locals how they control a crime scene. We'll have to make do with what we have."

His eyes cut to her and they stopped the words from crossing her lips. She nodded and followed the council member around the north corner of The Derby House.

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Rossi arrived at the Endicott Pear Tree with Detective Allen Drake at the same time Councilwoman Proctor met JJ and Hotch. Fortunately, for the two men, only two other local LEOs were at the scene of the crime.

The Endicott Pear tree was similarly blocked off, only with a metal chain link fence.

"The city put up the fence after several teenage couples decided to make it their initial tree. When the town council found out, they felt a fence was the best way to preserve the tree."

"I'm surprised," Rossi, observed, "there weren't more witness before the fire department and cops were called."

Detective Drake pushed back his blonde bangs from a sun-reddened forehead. "Well sir, it was three o'clock in morning when the psycho that killed that poor girl, lit her on fire."

He spoke with a faint southern accent and his light hazel eyes crinkled up when he smiled, which wasn't often.

Rossi let his eyes roam over the famous pear tree, and then to a stand of trees near them and the house in the lot next door. It was a large white painted house in the colonial style as most of the homes in this town. He counted the windows on the side of the house that faced the crime scene.

"What about the neighbors?"

"That's Mr. and Mrs. Brandenburg. They have two children, a boy and a girl, thirteen and sixteen. They slept through it all until the fire truck showed up."

"I'd like to talk to them."

"Don't know what good it'd do. We spoke to them the night it happened, but suit yourself."

The detective put his hand to his mouth as though he were about to pull away a cigarette then snorted in disgust. "My wife talked me into quitting three years ago, but I still miss it like hell. Come on," he gestured in the direction of the house. "Let's have a talk with Mrs. Brandenburg. Her husband's likely at work, but she has a small business she runs from home.

Rossi followed him back down to the sidewalk and down the block to the house surrounded by elm trees and a couple of pines standing over twelve feet tall. They looked to Rossi like they'd been there longer than that 400-year-old pear tree they'd just left.

The detective knocked on the door with a half circle of stained glass. They waited, knocked again and a voice said. "Alright, hold your horses."

A small woman, not much more than five feet tall with graying brown hair tied back in a ponytail opened the door. She wore a plaid shirt over a pair of very old blue jeans and an irritated expression in her grey eyes.

"Glen," she greeted sourly. "I thought we told you everything we know."

"You did, Martha. This is Agent Rossi of the FBI. He has different questions for you."

"I'm busy."

"This won't take a minute. Is that marinara sauce?"

She beamed at Rossi and her whole expression changed. "Yes," she jabbed her finger at Detective Drake. "Detective Glen here wouldn't know Italian from Mexican."

"Martha I -"

"Of course you can tell," Rossi said and slipped inside the door. "It's obvious. It smells just like my Nana used to make."

"Really," Martha enthused. "You know, the trick is in the wine," she winked at him. "Come, and sit down. You see," she directed at Detective Drake. "He's not a Philistine."

She led them to the living room. "What can I help you with, Agent Rossi, is it?"

"Yes ma'am. You see, I noticed that there are several windows of you house that face the Endicott Pear Tree. Did anyone see anything?"

"I did, but mama and the cops don't believe me," said a young girl with blond hair and her mother's grey eyes.

"Kelly, I told you -"

"It's okay," Rossi said. "I'm pretty trusting. I believe in most anything."

"What about Santa Claus," the girl said.

He sized her up from her neon pink sneakers to her tattered jeans, and her pink sweater topped with another purple bolero style sweater and bright blue nail polish on her fingers. "I don't believe in Santa, but neither do you, anymore."

She shrugged. "Santa is lame anyway. But," she said and her eyes brightened. "Witches are cool."

"Kelly Brandenburg."

"Oh calm down, mom. I'm not going to join a coven and sacrifice a virgin."

"Watch your mouth," her mother warned.

"Why don't you tell me what you saw?" Rossi interrupted the fight he could see coming on the horizon between mother and daughter.

"I saw something totally whacked out," the girl whispered. "A blackbird flew right out of the sky and turned into some guy in a black cloak. The girl appeared right out of thin air next to him and she was already on fire."

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Morgan and Blake found the caretaker of the Rebecca Nurse House in a little side building in the north end of the property. He was a very tall and skinny man with ropes of muscles outlining his arms beneath a threadbare brown sweater he wore with green work pants.

"Are you Sherman Jarvis, the caretaker?"

"I didn't do nothing'" he said and then spit next to Morgan's shoes.

"We're with the FBI. We're consulting on the murdered girl."

"I work here every day. Why are you here?"

Blake glanced over at Morgan. "Mr. Roberts said you were here how October 20th when Jean Burr was killed."

"Don't know Jean Burr. I know Mr. Roberts. He said I could work here. I like the animals and the trees. I'm a good worker."

"I'm sure you are," Blake said kindly. "We just need know what you saw that night."

"It was a fire," Jarvis said, but his eyes lit up. "I saw the pretty fire, from the window," he pointed to the little care taker shack at the top of the hill. "I get to sleep there at night

Morgan followed the big man's finger to another building that reminded him of servants' quarters on a big estate in the south somewhere.

"What else did you see?"

"Don't know, I gotta go back to work, or Mr. Roberts will get mad."

He spun on his heel and hurried away with an empty bucket in each hand. He strode toward the top of the grassy hill behind the house as though all the hounds of hell snapped at his heels.

"Well," Alex said brightly. "That was helpful."


	5. Reid's Theory

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**_Reid's Theory_**

JJ had never seen such an expanse of impeccably manicured lawns. The sod was still emerald green despite the fact that it was the end of October. Several trees studded the property and still had some leaves clinging to their branches in shades of scarlet, fire-orange, bright yellow and purple. She had a momentary longing for her camera and then Councilwoman Proctor stopped and turned around.

"Agents, I want to make it clear that I expect quick results with this case."

"Ma'am," Hotch began, "We will work as quickly as we can, but we _won't_ skip steps to please the town council."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't want you to cut corners, Agent Hotchner. I want this man caught, and before Halloween. I will not let some sick maniac ruin this town's biggest night."

"Ma'am, we understand the pressure on you, however -"

"The Salem witch trials bring millions to our city and state economy over the course of a year. Halloween is a huge chunk of the total."

Councilwoman Procter lectured over JJ as if the agent didn't exist.

"I understand how you feel," Hotch interrupted, "but those concerns are neither mine nor my team. Our concern is the safety of this town."

"Then we have the same priorities," she agreed. "Just do it quietly."

She marched away from JJ and Hotch and down the lawn to the edge of the tree line.

"It's always nice to have the support of local government," JJ said sarcastically.

"I agree, but we have more important problems."

They slowly climbed the hill to a blackened area near some Elm trees. It stuck like the proverbial a sore thumb, in the middle of all the autumn. "It's a good thing they haven't let the lawn die, or the entire place might have gone up," JJ said.

Hotch walked around the burned area in the lawn. "There are no footprints or any other sign that anyone has been here. We can thank to these manicured lawns, for that."

"Why this place?"

Hotch scanned the area. "It's very exposed. The un-sub isn't concerned with witnesses."

"I'd say not," said a voice to his left.

A man with white hair that reminded JJ of cotton candy came out of the trees."

"Who are you?"

"I'm who you're here to see. My name is Gale Dietz. I take care of the gardens and the lawns."

"Great job," JJ said.

"My name is Aaron Hotchner and this is Jennifer Jareau of the FBI."

"I'm pleased to meet you," he held out a gloved hand to Hotch.

"Detective Drake said you'd seen something the night Tracey Sanderson was killed."

"You mean brutalized," the old man said and his ice blue eyes rivaled Hotch's piercing stare.

"What did you see?"

"Well now, I want to help for the sake of that poor child, but I'm afraid you'll think I've been tipping the bottle."

JJ raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Hotch, who gave nothing away in his eyes.

"Trust me," she said. "We've heard just about it all."

"Not this, you ain't. I was here late that night because I was gettin' ready for Halloween. The tourists come in droves, startin' at the beginnin' of the month, as you can see for yourselves. It gets dark early in October and I was comin' around the corner of the house when this shadow… I don't know how else to describe it. It just appeared and then there was a flash and fire burnin'. There was something' wrong with the girl though. She just appeared outta nowhere and the shadow wasn't a shadow anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you'll think I'm crazy, but this shadow was like a bat and then it was like a person. I couldn't tell if it was a man or woman, cause it had this hood over its face."

JJ didn't roll her eyes, but only because Hotch was right there and he demanded the team remain professional. She couldn't stop herself from glancing over at him.

"I can see you're ready to ask me the usual questions," Mr. Dietz said.

"What questions are those?" Hotch asked.

"If there's mental illness in my family, if I've been drinkin' or takin' narcotic drugs."

Hotch's lips twitched just a little before the wall slammed down again. "Yes sir."

"I can assure you I have all my marbles. I can't drink and keep this job, Agent Hotchner, and I love my job. That's why I didn't pack up and leave after what I saw."

"It was dark," JJ, pointed out.

"Little girl, I know every inch of this place. I don't need a light to find my way around the property. I can walk it blindfolded. The moon was two days after full, so it's not like I couldn't see."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Dietz." Hotch stuck out his hand.

"What do you think?" JJ asked Hotch as they walked back to their SUV.

"I think I want to talk to the rest of the team."

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The team met back at the police station, which was located right in the middle of downtown Danvers. The tree-lined streets were decorated with black, orange and white for the upcoming Halloween celebration. The main theme seemed to be witches. The black cloaked witches on brooms outnumbered the skeletons, ghosts and goblins, or at least it seemed to Reid as he parked his burrowed SUV between two black and whites.

When he opened the door to exit the truck, a wind rose and rattled the leaves on the trees. Two orange-yellow leaves pulled away from the tree near his car and flew down to the black top in front of him. He ducked as though someone shot at him. He looked frantically around him to see if anyone noticed how jumpy he was, but no one looked at him. For the first time in his life, he was glad to be invisible. He didn't have to worry about embarrassing the FBI, by resembling a frightened puppy facing down an alpha male.

"Good going," he whispered. "They're just leaves. Get a hold of yourself, for goodness sake."

Everyone had returned except for Rossi and Detective Drake when he entered the little conference room they'd set aside for the team to use.

"Hey, kid, how was the morgue," Morgan asked.

"Not very informative," Reid said as Rossi and Detective Drake hurried into the room.

"What did you find?"

Reid faced Hotch. "Dr. Wong is waiting for results on the accelerant, but the autopsy results are just…" He hesitated, "Well for want of a better word, it was weird."

"Weird," Morgan said as Rossi grinned and the rest of them smirked. "Are you out of 100 dollar words?"

"No, it's just that the bodies all resembled what you would see if they'd spent hours in a crematorium, but witness and firefighter's accounts prove that wasn't the case. There's no obvious accelerant and no other cause of death. Dr. Wong didn't find evidence of sexual assault, but he admits that the fire probably destroyed the evidence."

"To use Dr. Reid's word," Rossi said. "None of that is weirder than what a witness told us."

"Let me guess," JJ said. "A black hooded figure appeared out of nowhere with the already burning body of their victim."

"I've never known you to be flippant on a case," Reid scolded.

"I'm not flippant."

"She's right," Rossi said.

Reid gaped at them. "Seriously," he squeaked.

"Yes," Hotch said. "Seriously, which means we have a problem."

Reid's phone buzzed and he jumped a little. "Reid," he squeaked.

"Hey there, gorgeous grey matter. I have news for you."

"I'm going to put you on speaker, Garcia."

He pushed a button and laid his phone on the table. "I've been dipping my fingers into every database from here to Omaha and I can't get a line on the kind of accelerant you mentioned, sweet cheeks."

"Dr. Wong is of the opinion that the accelerant could be government designed or military," Reid informed the others.

"Why?" Blake asked.

"Because of the rate that the bodies burned; the accelerant would have to be fast burning at a very high temperature. Nothing exists that can explain the condition of the bodies after only minutes."

"I haven't received any results from the autopsies," Garcia continued. "When I have it you'll know.

"Thanks," Reid said to her.

"Anything for you, handsome. I'll keep digging."

She ended the call as abruptly as always and Reid put his phone away.

"What do we do now?" JJ asked. "We have no evidence to build a profile."

"We'll have to go with what we know," Hotch said.

"Are we thinking white male," Blake asked. "That seems to be too easy."

"We don't know if there was a sexual motive," Reid said.

"We can't rely on witness testimony," Rossi added. "At least not from a teenage girl."

"The man we talked to was as reliable as they come," JJ said. "He wasn't a dreamy eyed teenage girl."

"Perhaps we're overlooking something obvious," Reid said with a light in his eyes that JJ thought signaled something strange, but helpful.

"There were historians that once thought the hysteria of the Salem Village witch trials might have been caused by the residents eating Rye bread, made with grain contaminated with a fungus called Claviceps purpurea, which is a natural substance from which LSD is derived. It also causes convulsive ergotism. Others thought it was an epidemic of bird borne encephalitis lethargica and still others, sleep paralysis to explain the nocturnal attacks alleged by some of the accusers. Other modern historians, though, are less inclined to believe in biological explanations, preferring instead to explore motivations such as jealousy, spite and the need for attention to explain behavior they contend was simply acting."

When he paused for breath, they were all staring at him. "What?"

"I'll never get over all the things you have stored in that brain of yours," Rossi said and Morgan snickered.

"I doubt it was contaminated grain," Blake said. "There's no other evidence and no one else is sick."

"That we know of," Reid said. "I know it's a long shot, but we should consider the possibility."

"Yeah," JJ said and her eyes looked far away. "What about that case we had eight years ago with the poison on the envelopes at the bank."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the people in these girls' lives. Perhaps they can shed some light."


	6. Witnesses Part Two

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Witnesses Part Two_**

Blake's phone began to buzz as the SUV were turned down Silver Oak Lane.

"Hey, Garcia, that was fast."

"You should know better than to expect any different from me."

"What did you find out?"

"I know everything there is to know about Sherman Jarvis. What do you want first, the good or the bad news?"

"We'll take the bad news. Let me put you on speaker."

"Mr. Jarvis was a bit of a fire bug in his youth. He started several trash can fires and then graduated to burning down a neighbor's barn when he was twenty five years old."

"Did he do time?"

"No. His uncle was on the city council at the time. Apparently, there was a pay off to state officials. It was a big scandal at the time. His uncle was thrown off the council in the next election, even though he has scads of money. I'm sending you Mr. Jarvis's sealed Juvie file."

"Anything else, Garcia?"

"He spent time in an institution as a result of his proclivity for peeping in windows, also as a teenager. I guess Uncle Councilman couldn't get him out of that with his money."

"Is his uncle still living in Danvers?"

"No, he passed away six months ago from Parkinson's related complications."

Blake sighed, "Well I thought that'd be too easy. I think I'll have the locals bring him in for questioning."

"Good luck," Garcia said and ended the phone call.

They pulled into the driveway of the Dana Glanvill's home, five minutes later.

"Sounds like a good suspect," Morgan commented.

As soon as he climbed out of the SUV, a rather angry looking man slammed the front door and strode toward them. His thinning blonde and graying hair was combed over the top of his head. He had the same blue eyes as Dana Glanvill, but they were red and swollen

"What do want?"

His hands were fisted at his side and a vein popped out on his forehead. He smelled of whiskey and unremitting pain.

"Mr. Glanvill?"

"What of it?" He swayed dangerously on his feet. "I'm busy."

"Mr. Glanvill, I'm Agent Blake and this is Agent Morgan. We'd like to ask you -"

"I don't give a damn what you want. My baby girl is dead. All I want is my little girl back. Can you give her back to me?"

He staggered and nearly fell into Morgan. He was about three inches shorter than Morgan, but appeared to have about fifty pounds more on his frame then was healthy. Morgan caught him easily, though, and Mr. Glanvill began to sob like a child.

"No, sir, we can't bring her back to you. I know how you must be feeling."

"No," Mr. Glanvill shoved Morgan way with so much force; he nearly fell headlong into their SUV. "You don't know how I'm feeling. Get off my property or I'll call the law."

He turned around, stumbled back into the house and slammed the door so hard, the pane of stained glass rattled alarmingly.

Blake and Morgan looked at each other and got back into the SUV. "Dana's mother is dead, right?"

Blake nodded. "She was an only child. Mr. Glanvill's alone now."

"There are times I really hate this job," Morgan said grimly as he started the engine.

"Let's hope we get more out of Mr. Jarvis."

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Hotch and JJ drove across the Danvers River and along a two-lane road for three miles. They pulled up to a twelve-foot cast iron fence painted black with gold spikes on the top.

A very bored, and condescending voice drifted out of the speaker box when Hotch pushed the blue button. "Who's calling please?"

"Supervisory Special Agents Hotchner and Jareau of the FBI."

"Do you have an appointment?"

JJ saw Hotch's jaw clench and almost laughed a loud.

"No. We're here to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson regarding the death of their daughter."

There was a very long pause. Hotch looked at JJ and she raised her eyebrows. He didn't smile and she wondered if the Sandersons realized whom they were up against.

Hotch was in the act of reaching out to push the button again, when that same voice said. "I'm so sorry Agents, but the Sandersons aren't home at the moment. Would you like to make an appointment?"

JJ watched Hotch's knuckles go white on the steering wheel. "No. Please ask them to contact us at the police station. It's very important we talk to them as soon as possible."

"Of course, I'll be happy to pass on your message when they return."

"When will that be?" Hotch's voice had taken on a hard edge and again JJ wondered if the person on the other end of the intercom understood who he irritated.

"I'm sorry; I'm not at liberty to say."

"Do you know what obstruction of justice means?"

There was another long pause. "I'm sorry," the voice said again. "I don't mean to be obtuse, sir, but the Sandersons didn't say when they would return or where they were headed."

"I find it hard to believe they didn't tell an employee where they went. What if there is an emergency?"

"Again, I can only say that I don't know where they went or when they will be back."

"Thank you," Hotch said. "You've been very helpful."

He shut his window and turned the SUV around to head back to Danvers.

"Wow, I'm surprised you didn't try to storm the gates."

"The truck wouldn't stand up to that gate," Hotch said with clenched teeth.

"Did you just make a joke?"

Hotch only looked at her, so she bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.

"What kind of people disappear right after their daughter is murdered so brutally, and don't leave contact information."

"The kind that has something to hide," Hotch responded.

"If anything ever happened to Henry," JJ said with a visible shudder. "I'd be out there hunting down the person that hurt him. I wouldn't take a vacation."

Hotch didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He'd been through losing his high school sweetheart. He hadn't given up until he'd taken down The Reaper. He'd no more walk away then give up custody of Jack.

"Some people deal with grief in different ways," he said unexpectedly.

She raised her eyebrows. "You wouldn't walk away."

"No," he said firmly, "I wouldn't."

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Incense smoke drifted lazily as the figure in black chanted over fluttering black candles. The room was close and very warm but the shadow didn't lower the hood that covered its face.

"Oh, Father of Lies," the voice crooned. "I have done thy work and exacted vengeance in thy name. Hear my prayer and give me of thy power to finish my work. Send me a sign."

One of the tall candles fluttered and nearly gutted out. A skeletal hand, crisscrossed with ravaged flesh, reached out toward the flame. The figure whimpered as the flame bit flesh, but didn't pull back until the skin blistered, then turned pink with health and vitality.

"Thank you, my Lord."

The shadow began to chant again. The candles burned high and fast, much faster than was natural.

"I will show them thy power and they will pay for their disrespect."


	7. Witnesses Part Three

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Witnesses Part Three_**

The King house sat kiddy corner on a five acre lot that faced Danvers Ave. The red brick home sat back on the lot and at the top of a slight hill. The grass was golden-green and strewn with brightly colored leaves. The shades were pulled over the front windows when they passed by and around to the driveway that ran to the back of the home.

They'd spent most of what remained of the afternoon speaking to friends of the victims. Talking to teenagers wasn't Reid's idea of fun, but it had to be done.

Rossi swung the truck around in the large parking area in front of a huge bar and parked. He climbed out and stretched his arms over his head. "Is it just me, or is it really quiet around here."

"I noticed that too," Reid said. "I haven't seen another car in the neighborhood since we arrived."

He gestured to the cross street, Hazel Stone Way. "I'd expect to see more traffic this time of day."

A wind picked up and threw clouds across the sky. The sun winked in and out of existence, throwing shadows over the house and the grass. The fallen leaves flipped into the air and fell again with a rattle that reminded Reid of bare bones.

"Lets see if anyone's home," he said a bit gruffly.

Rossi lifted his eyebrows as he pulled off his sunglasses. "Problem?"

"Tell you about it later."

He followed him up three concrete steps to the back porch. "It feels weird knocking on the back door," Rossi whispered to him.

He pushed the doorbell and it opened as though someone had been waiting right behind it.

"May I help you?" Said a small woman with light brown hair and light green eyes.

"Ma'am, I'm Agent Rossi and this is Dr. Reid of the FBI. We'd like to speak with you and your daughter, Winifred."

He held out his ID for her. The woman studied it for a long time, and then opened the screen door for them to come in. The first thing Reid saw was a small boy playing with a little toy car in the middle of the hallway. He was hit with the smell tomatoes, spices and meat. The hint of garlic made his mouth water. This time, he couldn't identify the dish, but it smelled delightful.

"You'll have to hurry. We eat early, five thirty every night. I won't have my kids disturbed."

"Is your husband here?"

She eyed Rossi with something like irritation. "My husband's in Florida. He drives a truck and won't be home until next week."

She led them into a small living room with a flower-patterned sofa with a bright purple throw over the back. "Sit here and I'll go get Winifred."

She walked, or rather; she limped out of the room. She favored her left leg as she moved and Reid heard her groan.

The little boy peeked his head around the doorframe and stared at Reid with big dark eyes he must have inherited from his father. His short hair was dark brown and curly.

"Hi," Reid said kindly. "What's your name?"

"Shane."

"Hello, Shane."

"Can I see your badge?"

The boy sidled into the room and stood there with one finger in his nose. Reid held out his badge for the child's inspection.

"My name's Spencer."

The boy reached out for the badge. Reid let him take it. "Are you a cop?"

"No, we work for the FBI."

"What's, BI," the kid asked solemnly."

"FBI," Reid corrected. "We're like federal police."

The child only stared at him, and then he seemed to lose interest. He dropped the badge on the colorfully braided rug that lay on sparkling hardwood floors and went back to his toys.

"Good job," Rossi whispered. "You got rid of the kid."

"That wasn't my intention," Reid began.

"Don't want to talk to them," said a querulous voice from down the hall. "I was talking to Judy."

"Don't sass me Winifred Marie King -"

"Mom!"

The two women or rather one woman and one very red faced and angry girl rounded the corner into the room. "Sit down," her mother ordered.

The girl threw herself into on of the easy chairs and pointedly looked out the window instead of at Reid and Rossi."

"Winifred," Rossi began. "My name is Agent Rossi and this is Agent Reid. We just want to ask you a few questions about the night Dana Glanvill went missing."

"You mean the night someone whacked her."

"Winifred!"

"Mom, I told you not to call me that. My name is Freddie."

"I'll call you what I like," Mrs. King shouted over her. "Sit up straight and do what you're told or you'll explain yourself to your father when he gets home."

"Oh, I'm scared."

"Young lady," her mother's tone deepened and for the first time, the girl sat up and looked at her. "You're treading on very thin ice."

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know what you think I know," she directed at Rossi, but her eyes were glued on Spencer. "We were supposed to be working on Homecoming. It was going to be Halloween themed, but this wacko that's killing people messed it up."

"We spoke to another friend, Danny Lutz. He said that he was supposed to drive Dana here, but they had a fight that afternoon."

The girl continued to stare at Reid. "Yeah, Danny's been trying to get her to go out with him since last year, but she only likes him as a friend. They got in to it and Dana told him to f-k off."

"Watch your mouth!"

Winifred rolled her eyes at her mother. "This is a do as I say not do as I do household."

She directed this at Reid and winked at him. He didn't seem to notice, but it was Rossi's turn to roll his eyes.

"Danny Lutz doesn't know the meaning of the word no."

"Did he threaten Dana?"

She finally turned her eyes to Rossi. "Nah, he never threatened her, but he's still a jerk."

"Did Dana call you before she left the house?"

Winifred flicked her eyes back to Reid. "Yeah, she said she'd be here in ten minutes. Her house is only a few blocks away. We go to each other's house all the time."

Her eyes suddenly filled up with tears. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. She was my best friend and now she's dead."

She leapt out of her chair and ran from the room.

"I'll get her."

"No," Rossi smiled at Mrs. King. "We're done."

The woman finally smiled, with made her light green eyes shine a little. She suddenly looked very tired. "I'm sorry, Agents. It's tough with my husband gone so much. I have to play the heavy, even when I don't want to. Dana was Freddie's best friend. This is tough on her."

"We understand."

"I think you do," she said and smiled with more energy. "Would you gentleman like supper. I've made chili in the slow cooker."

"No thank you," Rossi said. "We need to get back to work."

She stood when they got to their feet. She shook Rossi's hand again. Reid waved at her. "Thank you for all that you're doing for Dana. She was a good girl."

Reid thought that as an epitaph from a mother, Dana could have done worse.

The wind still fluffed at the leaves as they left the house, but they didn't remind Reid of bones, now. He pulled his jacket a little closer around his middle because the sun was on its way down, and the setting sun always made him a little cold even in the summer. It was as if the orb died a death every day and that always made him shiver.

"Come on," Rossi said as he opened his door. "That chili made me hungry."

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The locals recommended "The Hanging Rope," diner to them as a spot for supper.

'It's a bit obvious for this part of the country," one detective said, but the food is the best in town."

Reid had to agree as he dug into his steak and fried potatoes. Blake sat next to him and was indulging in thick white gravy and biscuits, with sausage.

"It bothers me that the Sandersons disappeared like they did," Hotch was saying to Rossi, who also had steak, but paired it with a loaded baked potato.

"Hopefully our Gal-Friday will be able to track them down."

"Not if she has to deal with the voice on the other end of that intercom," JJ interjected over her bowl of clam chowder. A large slab of corn bread sat on a white plate near her elbow. "I thought bull dogs like that only existed in Gothic novels or bad TV movies."

"Mr. Glanvill wasn't much help," Morgan said after a bite from his French Dip sandwich made café style with cheese, and grilled onions and peppers. "He was pretty cooked when we got there."

"Can't say I blame him," Alex commented. "I can't imagine losing a child."

JJ nodded over her cornbread and Rossi chewed his steak thoughtfully. Hotch's dark eyes seemed to turn inward for a moment and the table got very quiet despite the noise of the other diners around them.

Morgan's phone rang and Reid jumped a little. No one seemed to notice as all eyes were on his friend.

"Baby-girl, what did you find?"


	8. Firebug

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Firebug_**

"I've got something that'll blow your socks off," Garcia said.

"Take your best shot, Mama," Morgan responded as Rossi rolled his eyes.

"I've been all over the Sanderson's' business. Jefferson Davis Sanderson the Fourth comes from family money. His pedigree goes all the way back to the Mayflower. His most direct ancestor, William Paul Sanderson was a judge during the trials. He personally condemned four of the Salemites hanged for witchcraft. William's grandfather came here from the British Isles with his wife, who was the daughter of a Scottish Earl. The family has maintained their money and status for over eight hundred years."

"What else did you find?"

"Only that the Sanderson's' have a private jet. I spoke to the tower in Boston and they filed a flight plan to Switzerland at 4 am this morning."

"Let me guess; the Swiss weren't helpful when you called them."

"No, not even my charm could pry information out of their oh so friendly police."

"I'm sure you did your best."

"Don't patronize me, Morgan. I'm not giving up."

"Be careful baby girl."

"You know it."

She hung up on him and he relayed this latest information while they finished their meal.

"Maybe we should call on our connection to Interpol," Reid said.

Hotch nodded over the last of his barbeque ribs and coleslaw. "I agree. Why don't you call her, JJ?"

She swallowed down a mouthful of cornbread soaked in honey and butter. "I'll call her before we quit for the night."

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When they arrived back at the police station, Detective Drake met them in the parking lot with a white bag and a paper cup in his hand. "Ran out for a burger," he held up the bag. "I just got the call that a couple of uniforms picked up Sherman Jarvis."

"Why?"

Hotch asked the question they all had on their mind.

"Apparently he had a couple too many and was involved in a fight down at "Dixie's." According to witnesses, he threw the first punch when a couple of the town bad boys started in on him about your visit."

"Where is he?"

"He's in Interrogation Room 2. He pulled a knife and cut Richie Dodd pretty badly. We've got him in chains."

"An assault with a deadly gives us an excuse for a warrant to look at his home."

Detective Drake nodded. "Judge Capp will sign it, but not after office hours. He's former military and his motto is that if it's not outright murder, it can wait until office hours."

Hotch indicated JJ. "That's your job first thing tomorrow."

"Yes sir."

"I don't know if anyone's explained to you that Sherman Jarvis is a little slow. He only made it through the sixth grade in school. I hear his IQ is about 70," Detective Drake said. "We've had him in the drunk tank before, but since he uncle had to pay off on that peeping charge when he was a teenager, he hasn't tried to hurt anyone."

"What about fires? Have there been any unexplained fires in the area in the past five years," Reid asked.

"No. I heard about his fire setting as a kid, Dr. Reid. He spent some time in an institution and they claim he's not a pyromaniac."

Reid flicked his eyes to Hotch. "Want to join me in interview?" The Unit Chief asked.

"Yes."

Detective Drake joined Rossi and Morgan in the observation room as Reid and Hotch entered the interrogation room with Sherman Jarvis. The tall, thin man sat with his shoulders hunched and his head down. He stared at the table as the FBI sat down.

"Mr. Jarvis, do you know why you're here?"

He didn't move or look up from his study of the pitted and scratched metal table. His chains rattled a little as his legs shifted. He clasped his hands as if in prayer, then his head lifted and he stared directly at Reid.

"I didn't do nuthin."

"That's never a good way to start a conversation with the police, Sherman."

"Don't call me that.

"You tried to kill a man."

"He called me stupid. You gonna let someone call you stupid."

_People used to call me teacher's pet and beat me up for my brains. _

"I don't think you're stupid, Sherman."

"I said don't call me that. I hate Sherman, makes me sound like a faggot. I ain't no faggot."

He pulled on the chains that held him to the table and the legs squeaked a bit. "Mr. Jarvis," Hotch said firmly. "Do you like setting fires?"

Jarvis's eyes lit up but then they shut down again in a hurry. "I only start fires in my fireplace at home. Daddy said it was bad to start fires in other places. He hit me. Hurts when people hit me."

"Yes," Reid said. "It does hurt when people hit."

"How would ya know? You're just a cop that thinks he's better than everyone like Detective Drake."

He twisted his head as far around as he could to look at the two-way observation mirror. "I know you're back there. You're all watchin' me like birds sittin' on a telephone wire. I watch lots of TV and I know someone's always watchin' ya behind the glass."

"Mr. Jarvis," Hotch said sharply. "Did you kill those girls?"

Sherman began to laugh and bob his head up and down. "They burned, pretty orange and yellow flames, but I didn't kill them. I don't like none of those girls. They laugh at me and point their fingers. No one tells them not to laugh. I ain't gonna talk. I want a lawyer."

He laughed again and it sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard to Reid. "I'm smart, I know cause I watch TV. I don't have to talk to you."

"No," Reid said. "You don't have to talk to us. I know what it's like, Sherman. They hit me to when I was a kid and sometimes now that I'm a man."

"Don't believe you. You're tryin' to trick me."

"We don't want to trick you, Sherman. If you want to talk to us, you can ask for me. My name is Spencer."

"Spencer is a better name than Sherman."

Hotch and Reid left the interrogation room. Detective Drake met them just outside the observation room. "What do you make of him asking for a lawyer?"

"If you're asking if he's smarter than everyone thinks," Reid said. "It's hard to say. Someone of low IQ can appear to be more cunning than they should be. He definitely knows something, but we can't talk to him again until he has a lawyer."

"You might be sorry about that," the detective said. "His lawyer is Greg Faulkner, one of the best in the business."

"How does a grounds keeper afford a lawyer like that?"

"His uncle and Mr. Falkner went to college together. He's worked for the family pro bono for years."

Hotch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't think there's anything else we can do tonight. We should call it a day."

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Amber Findley hurried to her car from "Dixie's." Her long blond hair flew out behind her like a flag in the wind. She pulled her red windbreaker around her waist and fumbled with her keys.

"Amber…"

She stopped in the middle of the parking lot and looked around in utter surprise. "Jazz, is that you?"

"Amber…"

The voice didn't sound like Jazz at all. "Jazz," she called, "really funny, stop screwing with me or I'll kick your ass."

She turned back for her car and fought the urge to run. Her high heels clacked on the blacktop and her short black skirt swished around her bare legs. She heard someone was keening like a frightened animal and realized that it was she.

"Amber…"

"Stop it," she screamed.

The wind picked up and tugged at her hair and her skirt. Her car was just across the parking lot. If she could get there, she'd be safe.

"It not funny," she said as she increased her pace.

She should've brought her tennis shoes for after work, but it was too late now. The wind began to whisper in the trees like many tiny voices.

"Calm down," she said and deliberately made herself slow to a casual walk. "There's nothing in the dark that isn't there in the light."

_One night when she was a little girl, her father had come into her room when she was crying. "What's wrong, my little princess?" _

"_Monster in the closet." _

_He gathered her into his arms. She loved the smell of him. She didn't know what it was about the scent on his shirts, but it made her feel so safe and warm._

"_Hey, don't cry little one. There's nothing bad in the closet." _

_She sobbed hard into his shoulder for a minute. "Saw it." _

"_Where did you see it," he asked gently. _

_She didn't dare look over her shoulder. She pointed in the direction of the closet. He started to pull away from her, but she held on. "Monster get daddy." _

"_No, the monster won't get me. I know something very important." _

_She pulled back and wiped at her face with one hand. "What daddy?"_

"_I'll show you." _

_He stood up and switched on her lamp. He went to the closet as she sniffed back her tears and flipped on the closet light. "See," he pulled the jacket that hung near the door out to show her then turned off the light. "Is this what you saw?" _

_She looked at him and then nodded her head very slowly. "It's just your coat making a shadow on the wall."_

_She sniffed again and hung her head. "I sorry daddy." _

"_It's okay," he hugged her tight. "I promise you that nothing's there in the dark that isn't there in the light._"

She reached out her hand and put the key into the door. She sighed with relief and nearly sagged against the car. She'd be inside in a minute and on her way home.

A hand reached out of the darkness and clamped on her arm. She tried to scream, but it cut off with a gurgle when another hand clamped over her mouth.

Daddy was wrong. There was something, something horrible in the dark that wasn't there in the light.


	9. JJ's Nightmare

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_JJ's Nightmare _**

_She screamed, but no one heard her cry in the darkness that was so black it pressed against her eyes like a living thing. Her heart stumbled in her chest and her throat hurt from the backwash of bile in her windpipe. _

"_Please, let me go." _

_Hands reached out from the darkness and slapped her. Her head rocked back on her shoulders and she sobbed. _

"_Why are you doing this to me?" _

_Her screams were whispers, but they sounded like shouts. _

_The hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her around and around in a circle as if they played a child's game of hide and seek. She swayed and stumbled. The hands yanked her upright and suddenly a blazing light blinded her more effectively than the complete darkness._

"_What?"_

_The hands slapped her again, so hard it was like a bomb going off in her head. She stumbled back and hit something that felt like a brick wall. Her head cracked against the rock hard surface and she moaned. _

"_Watch and see what happens to those who don't believe."_

_There were voices all around her, but she couldn't see them. They chanted with words that she didn't understand. It was some language that she thought she might've heard in a life that she couldn't remember. _

_Her eyes burned in the glare of the bright, hard light that filled the room. She thought she could just see shadows around her, but they didn't look like human beings. They looked like... No, she couldn't think of it or contemplate it because such things just couldn't be._

"_You still don't believe. Soon you will."_

"_Let me out of here."_

_Hands pulled her forward. They yanked her so hard she cried out in agony as pain shot up both her arms to her shoulders. _

"_You will do as I command, as he commands, or you will suffer the consequences." _

"_No!" _

_She finally found a voice to her scream as two eyes full of flames, appeared out of the harsh, gold light. Another voice full of hatred and rage such as she'd never heard began to cackle laughter. _

"_Stop it!"_

_The chanting voices around her rose in eager anticipation that was almost sexual in its ferocity. The hands pushed her around and around, so fast she vomited. Acid burned her throat and she began to cough as a cold wind buffeted her hair._

"_No, stop it." _

Her eyes popped open to an unfamiliar blackness. Her throat burned and her eyes were wet with tears. She ran a hand under them and tried to still the frantic beating of her heart. Sour sweat poured off her forehead and down her back. She threw off the covers and fumbled for the light on the stand next to the lonely hotel bed.

"What the hell?"

She reached for her phone, and then realized that it was after four in the morning. She sighed and wiped her hands over her face. She coughed a little against the raw acid in her throat. A glass sat near the remote for the little television on its stand. She picked it up and drained the water down in three long swallows.

Her phone beeped on the nightstand and she jerked in shock. The water glass tumbled out of her hand and fell to the floor. It bounced and rolled under the bed, but she didn't try to pick it up.

"Yes," she said into the phone.

"JJ, we have another missing girl."

"I'll be right there."

She pushed off the covers and stood up. Something went black over her eyes as she stood and she didn't feel it when her legs buckled and she fell back on the bed.

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Hotch was the first one back in the police station after getting the word that they had another victim. His phone buzzed and he put it on speaker as Detective Drake and Morgan entered the room, followed by Rossi, Blake and Reid.

"Good morning, Garcia," he said as they took seat around the rectangular table. "What have you got for us?"

"I've been looking into Amber Findley's life. Her family's been in Salem since the founding of the town. She's the oldest of all the victims taken by this creep. She turned eighteen last month and was hired part time at "Dixie's, three days after her birthday.

"What can you tell us about her?" Hotch asked Detective Drake.

"I've known her parents, Susan and Kelly since we were kids. I used to tease Amber when she was a kid, and when she started working at the restaurant."

Hotch's stern eyes watched the detective. They softened a little as the detective talked about the child of his friends. There was sorrow in the other man's eyes that Hotch remembered from his bathroom mirror after Haley died.

"Are you able to continue?"

Detective Drake turned his eyes on Hotch. "If you're wondering if I can maintain my objectivity, the answer is yes. I spent two hours this morning talking to Susan and Kelly and they're devastated. I won't let my feelings get in the way because I need to find her and get this son of a bitch!"

"Good," Hotch said. "Has anyone seen JJ?"

"I'm here," she said as she strode into the room as though a tiger nipped at her ankles. "Sorry I'm late," she said and dropped into the chair next to Reid.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I got a call from Will right after you called, Hotch. Henry's getting a cold and he wanted me to sing to him."

"Is he alright?" Reid asked in concert with Garcia on the phone.

"Yeah, he'll be fine."

"Garcia, what else did you find?"

"Amber was a straight A student. She was in the chess and debating clubs in school. She doesn't have a police record and she lives with her parents."

"Sounds too good to be true," JJ said.

"JJ."

She flicked her eyes over to Hotch.

"Yeah, what is that supposed to mean. She's a good girl," Detective Drake said.

He sat straight up in his chair and stared JJ down.

"Hey, I'm just saying that anyone that perfect is either boring or is hiding something."

"Now you wait just a minute," the detective began as he got to his feet with his hands fisted at his sides.

"Detective," Hotch roared. "Sit down."

"No, I will not sit here and listen -"

"You said you could maintain your objectivity," Hotch interrupted.

"You're going to let her talk to me that way." Drake thrust his forefinger at JJ.

"JJ," Hotch said. "Outside, now."

The rest of the team stared as Hotch and JJ left the conference room.

"Guys, are you still there?"

"Yeah, Mama, we're still here."

"I'm glad because I think I've found the link that ties all the victims together."

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"I want to know what you think you're doing."

JJ went to a table loaded down with a coffee pot, a canister of creamer, red and white swizzle sticks, and a large, pink box of doughnuts. JJ pulled one of the doughnuts out of the box and began to eat it with obvious enjoyment. "I don't know why you're so pissed off, Hotch," she said over a mouthful of chocolate goodness.

"That comment you made about Amber."

"I'm sorry, Hotch, I thought you appreciated honesty. It's not my fault if Drake can't hear it. You should be talking to him, not me. His objectivity is obviously compromised."

"JJ," Hotch interrupted harshly. "What's wrong with you? I've never seen you act this way. I expected better from you."

JJ laughed as she finished her doughnut. "I'm the one that should be lodging a complaint. Did you hear the way that son of a bitch talked to me?"

"You know better than to let one of the local cops get under your skin. What is this really about, JJ?"

"You're upset because I'm telling it the way it is."

"There's a difference between speaking your mind and having a little tact and understanding."

"Tact and understanding isn't going to get the job done, Hotch and you know it."

"I want you to go back in there and apologize to Detective Drake."

"No."

"Go now, or I'll send you home."

"Fine, I'll go make nice with Detective Oversensitive."

JJ strode out of the room. Her ponytail swung back and forth and just before she left the doorway, she turned back and gave Hotch a black look.

His shoulders slumped. He put two fingers of his right hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed long and loud. Things had just gotten ten times more complicated for them.


	10. The Return of an Old Friend

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Return of an Old Friend_**

Morgan shut his phone just as Hotch entered the conference room.

"Boss, we might have a connection between all the victims."

Hotch took his seat without acknowledging JJ, who sat with her arms crossed over her chest. She, in turn was ignoring Detective Drake.

"What did Garcia find?"

"All the girls have ancestry that goes back to the Mayflower. They all have progenitors that were here in Salem at the time of the witch trials."

"I would think that's true of many people in this city," Hotch pointed out.

"Maybe one of their ancestors pissed off someone else's great, great, great, whatever grandfather," JJ smirked.

"And, is out for revenge three hundred years later," Blake retorted. "I doubt that very much. We're looking for someone that has a definite type. Just because all the victims have common ancestry doesn't mean anything.

JJ chuckled. "Maybe you should open your mind a little."

"JJ," Hotch snapped.

"Oh, sorry, boss man," she saluted him and refolded her arms over her chest.

"We shouldn't discount the connection just because it might seem to indicate a motive," Reid said.

JJ favored him with a look that had Morgan scowling. He opened his mouth and Rossi cut him off. "I agree. It's the only connection we have. Who knows what could have happened in families that have lived together in the same place for the last three hundred years. It doesn't mean that it's revenge from the trials. Something could have happened in the last twenty years, the last five, or even the last six months."

"Garcia's on it," Morgan said as he watched JJ and Reid, his eyes moved between them like a metronome.

"Let's talk about the other lead we have," Hotch said. "Detective, has Sherman Jarvis's arraignment been set for tomorrow morning."

"Yes," the detective said shortly. "He's still on the hook for assault with a deadly. Even though he was here when our latest victim disappeared, we should talk to him again. He obviously knows something."

"I agree…" Hotch said. "He definitely didn't want to talk to us yesterday. I want to know what he saw. I'd like you to sit in on the interview and I like you, Reid, to take point. You made a connection with him and I think he might open up to you.

JJ snorted.

"Is there something on your mind, JJ?"

"No sir. You made it clear that the team doesn't want to hear what I have to say."

"I never said you shouldn't speak your mind. I want you to show some respect, that's all."

"Permission to speak freely," JJ said so snidely that Blake opened her mouth, then shut it when Hotch sent her a look.

"Of course."

The room grew silent again. Everyone, except for Reid was staring intently at JJ, the detective, or Hotch."

"I want to know why you're showing Reid more respect than me."

"JJ," Reid squeaked. "Hotch -"

"Can't you talk without that damn squeak?"

Reid flinched and Morgan growled. "Stay out it, Morgan," JJ snapped.

"JJ, I told you -"

She turned her wrath on Hotch. Her blue eyes snapped and her face was very pink. "You seem to think that Reid can do no wrong."

"This isn't about Reid."

"Yes it is. He has a "rapport," JJ said making quotes with her fingers, "and suddenly he's the golden child."

"You're irrational," Hotch said. "Go to your hotel room, now."

"Oh that's just great. You take his side once again."

"This isn't about sides," Hotch said. "This is about your attitude."

"Whatever," she huffed and pushed back her chair. It shot across the floor behind her and she slammed out the door.

"Hotch, what the hell?"

"I don't know what's wrong with her. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's having some sort of a breakdown."

"Maybe she is," said Detective Drake."

"Hey, man," Derek, growled. "Watch it."

"You don't frighten me. I call them as I see them."

"I'll go talk to her," Blake said as she began to get up from his chair.

"No."

"But, Hotch, obviously there's something wrong. When was the last time you heard her talk to anyone that way?"

"She has no problem talking to me that way," Reid interjected.

"This isn't about you."

"Isn't it, Morgan?" Reid challenged. "She's been punishing me ever since Emily came back and you know it. I called her on lying to me and she's been angry ever since."

"Enough," Hotch snapped. "Get back to work. We're here for the victims of these horrible crimes and to find Amber Findley before she suffers the same fate."

"I agree," Detective Drake said. "I don't want to have to tell Susan and Kelly that their daughter's dead."

"Detective Drake, I want to apologize for my agent."

"Look," he said and he gave them a little smile. "I'm not happy with her attitude because I believe that professionalism is more important than anything, but I also feel that we need you to find out what the hell is going on in my town."

"Let's get back to work," Hotch said.

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Reid stopped at one corner of the bullpen where someone had set up a coffee station. He poured out a cup, added enough sugar to make Detective Drake smile for the first time in an hour, and gingerly took a sip.

Drake laughed when Reid's eyes went round with surprise. "Not what you're used to, I see."

"No, this is wonderful," he said in a tone that most people reserve for church.

"You're lucky that Detective Castillo is on duty."

He pointed across the room to another plainclothes detective, who was deep in conversation with a woman wearing a very short red leather skirt and a black tank with black boots and heavy makeup. He glanced up at them and gave them a tired smile and wink.

"He made the coffee."

"Yep, everyone gets mighty depressed around here when he goes on a long undercover, or has the day off."

"I can see why."

"Listen, about Agent Jareau…"

Reid took another sip of his coffee, and wondered how long he could make this cup last.

"You don't have to say anything. Normally, she's fairly easy going. It's just been in the last couple of years, well ever since she became a profiler that she's changed. I don't know what happened. She used to be so kind, and compassionate, especially with the families of victims. Now, all she wants to do is chase psychos and take them down by any means necessary."

"Have you known her long?"

"Yeah, about nine years; I've never seen her act this irrational, if it's any comfort. She usually a little more even tempered."

Drake nodded. "Look, I'm not saying I'm happy about what she said, but I have to admit that you guys are great at what you do. I'm happy to have you on my side."

Reid sipped at his coffee. "The most difficult thing about working for the FBI is working with different LEOs around the country. We get the gamut of reactions. I'm just glad you didn't challenge her to a fight."

Drake chuckled. "Afraid I'd hurt her."

Reid smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "How should I phrase this? It's not that I doubt your ability, but I think she'd wipe the floor with you."

Drake choked on his coffee. "I hope we never have to find out. My mother told me never to hit girls."

Reid opened his mouth, but at that precise moment, his phone rang against his hip. "Reid," he said briskly.

"You still sound so official."

"Emily," he squeaked.

"Yeah, its me. Reid, what the hell is up with JJ?"

"I don't know. She's been on the rampage since we started work this morning."

"I talked to her last night about the Sanderson family and she seemed fine to me. Then, this morning she hung up on me."

"She did?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sorry, Reid. I didn't mean to be so demanding. How are you? I haven't talked to you for a long time."

"I'm better," he said evasively. "How are you?"

She was so silent for so long, he said. "Emily, are you there?"

"I'm here, but I wish I were there. I'm worried about you, Spencer."

"I'm really okay," he assured her while keeping one eye on Detective Drake who selected a doughnut and was eating it with relish.

"I really want to talk to you when things aren't so rushed. Have you got plans for Halloween?"

"No, I only hope we're finished with this case by then."

"Well, just be available in the morning."

"Why?'

"You'll see. Now," she cut him off before he could protest. "I have news for you about the Sanderson family whereabouts."

"Where are they?"

"They're here in Switzerland. It took a little finesse, but I was able to get an appointment to see them."

"You don't have to go personally," Reid squeaked.

"Yes, I do, I was a profiler for five years. Just have Garcia send me everything you have and I'll talk to them. I find that people have a, shall we say, better attitude if Interpol knocks at their door rather than the locals, especially Americans."

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't sound so suspicious, Reid. I promise no browbeating will be involved."

"Emily," he began.

"Trust me," she said and hung up on him.

He sighed, put his phone in his pocket and signaled to Drake. "I have news for the team that you'll want to hear, too."

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JJ stood in front of her mirror and stared at her eyes. They didn't look like her eyes. There was something wrong with them, oh, not with the color or the shape, but there was something in them that she didn't recognize.

"What are you doing?"

Her heart began to beat faster in her chest. She'd had some kind of blackout. She should be with the rest of the team. She reached for her phone and screamed when something appeared in the mirror behind her.

"Don't be afraid," the voice from her dream said. "I've made you stronger, Jennifer. You must embrace it. Do as I say and you will be rewarded.

"No," she shook her head. "I - this isn't real. Help me."

Hands, black as coal, reached out of the mirror and grabbed her by the shoulders. "You cannot fight me. I'm inside you."

"You can't," she wheezed out as her breath had suddenly become like syrup in her lungs.

"It's too late to fight, Jennifer. You've already let me in."

"I didn't let you in. This isn't real."

The face behind her leaned forward and passed through the glass as though made of smoke. Red eyes and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth filled her vision. She screamed again and gagged on the overwhelming smell of sulfur on the thing's breath.

"You're mine, Jennifer, now and forever. You can't fight it, but you will help me stop your former friends."

"No, I won't help you."

The thing tightened its claw-like hands on her arms and pulled her screaming into the mirror.


	11. Prestidigitation

Disclaimer: see my profile

It was almost a repeat of the night before when Reid entered the interrogation room with Hotch and Drake. Sherman Jasper sat in the same chair with chains on his ankles and his hands shackled to the table. His lawyer sat next to him and scowled at them as they came in.

"Drake, I should've known you'd be behind the harassment of my client. I demand you remove his chains or I'll file suit against the department.

"It's nice to see you too, Dennis. Did we take you away from your million dollar clients?"

"Do we need those?" Reid commented to Drake.

"Nah, I don't think he's going anywhere."

Drake unlocked the chains and Sherman rubbed at his wrists. His face was milk white pale and his eyes were red. "I didn't do anything."

"Be quiet, Sherman. I told you not to say anything to the police."

Drake observed the lawyer, who was fat, with blond hair combed over his receding hairline, and who wore an expensive tailored suit the color of wheat. It was perfectly fit to his portly figure. He wore a watch on a chain and reminded Drake of Sir Wilfred in "Witness for the Prosecution." Sadly, the lawyer wasn't as charmingly funny, as the crotchety Barrister of the movie.

"Sherman is a witness to a crime. I can add a charge of obstruction to his assault charge like that," Drake, snapped his fingers.

"Gentlemen," Hotch said. "We only want to ask Mr. Jasper some questions.

Dennis Jones sat up straight in his chair, as Sherman stared at the scarred table and appeared to ignore them. "It's my job to protect my client."

"Oh get off it," Drake said as his temper snapped off its leash. "You know we're within our rights to question Mr. Jasper. It's in his best interest for you to advise him to talk."

"I saw the monster," Sherman said suddenly.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut," his lawyer shouted.

"What kind of monster?"

Reid sat right across from Sherman. Hotch noticed for the first time that Reid had a coin in his hand and he was making it dance across his knuckles. The brass caught the light and it made the lawyer blink.

"What's he doing?"

"Sorry," Reid said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. "Sometimes my hands need something to do. It's just simple prestidigitation."

He made the coin disappear and Sherman clapped. "Where did it go?"

"I'll show you, if you tell me about the monster."

"Now really," his lawyer began.

"Mr. Jones, please let my agent speak. He's not doing your client any harm. The faster we get what we need, the quicker you can get out of here."

Jones wiped his forehead with an actual handkerchief. "Fine, but if I say we're done, then we are done. Is that understood?"

Hotch raised his eyebrows and Reid nodded. "It's fine."

"I want to see the coin," Jasper was saying and he pouted at Reid.

"I told you, I'd show you the coin after you tell us what you saw the other night. You said it was a monster."

"It was a monster," Sherman insisted. "It was black like the sky at night after the sun goes away. It had wings and it just swooshed right down out of the sky and then there was fire."

He started to laugh. "The fire was pretty. Can I see the coin now?"

"In a minute. Did you see the face of the monster?"

Reid hunched over the table and talked as though there were no one in the room with them.

"Didn't have a face. It was just a shadow. Monsters always hang out in the shadows. They play in closets and hide under the bed. They wait until you're alone and then they come out. I don't like the dark."

He began to rock back and forth in his chair. "That's enough," the lawyer snapped. "We're done here."

"Hey, Sherman," Reid said softly.

He reached out and then pulled his hand away for the man's ear. "It was right there in your ear."

He held it up and Sherman laughed delightedly. "Can I have it?"

"No, it's very special to me, Sherman, but I found a quarter in your ear too."

He held out the coin to the man, who took it and began to try to copy Reid's hand movements. The coin dropped from his fingers and clanged on the table. It began to spin, much faster than accounted for the force of the fall. It spun around and around and when Reid tried to grab it, it rolled off the table and bounced to the floor.

"NO!"

Sherman dived for it. Hotch and Drake grabbed him as he stumbled over his chains. "Leave me alone," he screamed and tried to throw them off. It took his lawyer entering the fray to calm him.

"I found it," Reid said and held up the coin.

He gave it back to Sherman. "Mine," said the man happily.

"Yeah, it's yours to keep," Reid said.

"Are we done here?"

Hotch looked at Reid and the younger man nodded his head. Drake snapped on the handcuffs and unlocked the leg chains from the table.

"We're done."

"Then, detective, I'll see your arresting officers in court."

"I'll give them your regards."

When the prisoner and the lawyer were gone, Reid put his medallion back in his pocket.

"Well, I see we have something in common," Drake said and pulled a similar coin out of his pocket. "How long?"

"Almost four years," Reid said with a sad smile.

"I just got my one year about three months ago."

"It never gets easier."

"No," Detective Drake said. "It doesn't, but at least I've got friends and family."

"Yeah," Reid glanced at Hotch who glowered, but there was something in his eyes that Reid knew. He smiled at the Unit Chief and Hotch smiled back.

"Wow, I thought your face would crack if you smiled."

Reid threw a startled glance at the Detective. Hotch not only smiled, he chuckled a little.

"Not quiet," he said then the mask slammed shut again. "Come on, let's get the team together. We need to decide on a profile and it's not going to be easy."

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Morgan was in the act of answering his ringing phone when the rest of the team entered the conference room. "Hey, baby-girl, I'm gonna put you on speaker phone."

"Hello, my loves," said Garcia. "I have some information for you regarding the families of the victims."

"Tell us," Hotch said grimly.

"I found a sealed record regarding Thomas Sanderson, Tracey's older brother. Apparently, he was accused of raping a Ruby Miller."

"You didn't think it necessary to tell us about this," Hotch turned to Detective Drake.

"I didn't think it was important."

"How could you think it wasn't important?" Morgan asked testily. "The older brother of the first victim was accused of a very serious crime."

"Ruby Miller had cocaine and alcohol in her system that night," Detective Drake said. "She couldn't positively identify her attacker after a lineup with Sanderson. There was no physical evidence backing up her claim. It was known that she had a crush on Tommy. She used to follow him around like a puppy."

"You're saying that what he did was okay because the poor girl had feelings for him that he didn't return," Blake demanded.

"No! I'm not saying that. Why are you attacking me?"

"Because you kept vital information from the investigation."

"Hey," Drake stood up and moved to the far wall. He held up his hands. "That record was sealed because Ruby was a minor at the time. It wasn't my place to bring it up."

"I find it interesting that Ms Miller had drugs in her system and there's no evidence of a crime."

"What are you trying to say?" Drake shot back at Rossi.

"It wouldn't be the first time a wealthy family made something like a rape charge go away."

Detective Drake returned to his chair. His posture relaxed as he addressed Hotch. "I know what you're thinking, and I happen to know that the Sandersons and the Millers financial records don't show anything unusual like a payoff."

"I'm sure that's the point," Morgan said.

"Should I call Emily? She told me she was going to talk to them." Reid asked Hotch.

Hotch glowered so hard his dark eyes began to spark. "Yes, I think that's a very good idea. Drake, I'd like you and Blake to go see the Millers. We need to know if this rape truly happened, or was it a false accusation."

Drake nodded. "I know Mr. and Mrs. Miller pretty well. I'll try to smooth things over."

"We'll delay giving the profile, such as it is until we hear from Emily and talk to the Millers," Hotch said. "Garcia, what else can you tell us about the sealed file?"

"Only that what the detective said is true, the case was closed due to lack of witnesses, evidence and a corroborating statement from the victim. However there is something I found that could be relevant."


	12. The Profile

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Profile_**

Reid's phone beeped when they reassembled after talking to the Miller family and a quick lunch. He put it on speaker for the rest of the team when he heard Emily's voice.

"I just finished my chat with the Sandersons. The new info about the alleged rape didn't endear me to them."

"I'm sure you handled it," Rossi said and the rest of them grinned.

"You know me too well."

"What did they say?" Hotch interjected.

"Tom Sanderson denies the rape. He admits to having sex with Ruby, but claims it was consensual."

"That figures," Rossi said. "He's not going to admit to rape."

"The strange thing is that his parents didn't act like they had anything to hide. They were upset that I was there, but they didn't so much as blink when I threatened to confiscate their passports and turn them over to the Swiss authorities. In fact, the Swiss authorities weren't too happy I flew over there to interrogate them, but I couldn't leave it to an over the phone conversation. It's too easy to avoid someone on the phone, a little harder to just show up on their doorstep."

"Nice one," Morgan enthused.

"Well, I told them we'd been over their financial records and we'd found a payout to the Millers hidden in the business expenses. Mr. Sanderson is a cool one. He said that Ken Miller did a job for him and he paid him. It was a one-time thing. I couldn't get him to tell me what kind of job."

"Too bad he's not smart enough to know he shouldn't piss you off," Rossi said.

She laughed, "Touché, Rossi. Still, if he's hiding something, I'll find the proper leverage to pop it out of the closet."

"I'm glad you're still on our side," Morgan quipped.

"You better believe it."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Hotch, you always amaze me what you pick up on without a face and body language," she complained with a smile in her voice. "I got the impression that Mrs. Sanderson wasn't happy with the fact that they'd fled to Switzerland. I might stay here another day and try to see her alone. I think she had something to say that she didn't want to say in front of her husband."

"We didn't fare much better with the Millers except that Mr. Miller corroborates what you told us. He said he was paid for a job he did for Mr. Sanderson. He refused to disclose what that job was. I believe it's just a smoke screen to hide the fact that the family was paid off not to testify against Thomas Sanderson." Hotch said.

"What now?" Emily asked.

"Ruby Miller doesn't live with her parents anymore. She moved to Boston and she's working as a secretary for a doctor. "

"Well, I'm going back to my hotel. Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Thanks for taking time out of your schedule to see them. I know you're busy," Hotch said.

"Anything I can do. See you later."

"What do we do now?" Blake asked.

Detective Drake hurried into the room with a sheaf of papers in his hand. "I just got these," he said and let them fall to the table. "A lot of wasted effort, but it had to be done.

All three sheets were drawings, but they didn't resemble anything

Human. All of them were black shadow like figures that resembled large birds or bats, or something in between human. It wasn't like anything any of them had ever seen.

"All the witnesses gave the same image to the police artist," he said as he dropped into his chair.

His tie was askew, and his shirt was rumpled. He rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "What are we supposed to do with these? He pointed at the pictures. "I can't put that over the wire."

"Is it possible they all hallucinated the same thing?" Blake wondered.

"It wouldn't be the first time this town has seen mass hysteria."

"Dr. Reid," Detective Drake began. "I don't think this isn't about the witch trials."

Reid held up a long fingered hand. "Please hear me out."

Detective Drake nodded. "Alright, what's on your mind?"

The rest of the team, and Drake watched him intently, as if he were the only person in the universe.

"It's a magic show. It's all about distraction. All the great illusionists and magicians depend on distraction to make their magic work."

"But, they all have people assisting them," Blake said. "Are you saying there's more than one killer? There's no evidence to support that."

"I think we have to consider it, despite the lack of evidence."

"That's what bothers me," Drake said, "The lack of evidence. Isn't it more risky to have a partner when you kill?"

"There're always a dominant and a submissive partner," Reid said. "That's who we have to focus on. He's the one that's making the mechanics of these tricks work. The killer is the showman, the one that takes the life."

"I don't know if I believe there's more than one, but I don't see what else it could be," Drake said.

"Let's go through it again," Hotch said, "And then we need to give the profile."

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"We're looking for a mission driven killer," Rossi began as the rest of the locals gathered around in the bullpen. "He's extremely organized and focused. He's over thirty because he has the maturity that comes with age."

"Because there is an element of theater, of magic in his kills, we believe there may be two of them."

"Why?"

Reid turned his attention to a dark haired female police officer at the back of the room. She was very tall and thin with dark skin and blinding white teeth, but she wasn't smiling.

"Every witness tells the same story," Reid continued. "All of them saw the same dark figure without a face. It's most likely the partner serving as a distraction for the other."

"We believe," Hotch continued, "That these two killers are looking for revenge for some wrong in the past. They're trying to make us believe that this wrong goes back to the Salem Witch trials by adding in the element of illusion and magic."

"How do we find two killers that have a liking for magic?"

"We know the victims were burned. We still don't have any clue how their bodies were so badly burned in so quickly." Blake said. "Start by digging into any corporation or government ties to accelerants or chemicals. I'm sure that some of you must have connections to the military."

A few of the officers gave each other significant looks.

"Also, we need to look into anyone that makes their living off magic. We're not looking for someone that's traveling through Danvers. The un-subs are from this area."

"What about Sherman Jarvis?"

"He's no longer a suspect," Hotch said.

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"What are we going to do," she asked the older woman. "The FBI is here."

"Everything that's happened was ordained."

Her hands were wrinkled and covered with age spots, but steady as she shuffled Tarot cards through her hands. She began to lay them down on the purple silk tablecloth.

"Are you sure the cards are right?"

"Now is not the time to lose faith. The cards foretold the arrival of six warriors that would defeat the evil that has overtaken this town."

The young woman gripped the old woman's hand. "How can you be sure? They're non-believers, dedicated to science and reason."

"Young one, you must learn that in life, sometimes the greatest ally you can have is one that doesn't share your beliefs. Just because someone doesn't subscribe to your faith, doesn't mean they can't hold power."

"Yes, but -"

"Trust me," said the old woman. "The FBI will save us. They will seek us out and when they do you will see their power."

"I know you're wise, Grandmother, but I don't understand."

"You will, my child. This is your final test. Soon you will take my place."

The young woman took the elderly woman's hand and held it tight. "You're going to live for a very long time."

The old woman patted her granddaughter's face. "You know better than that. All of the creatures in nature must face death. I am no better than they."

"But you are powerful, Nana," she cried.

"I have no power over death, my child."

The young woman bowed her head. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, I'll always be with you."

She pressed something round into the young woman's hand. "Take this and keep it close. You will need it."

"I can't take this, Nana. It's your most precious possession."

"It's not my most precious possession," said her grandmother. "You are the most precious thing I will leave behind."

The young woman's eyes filled with tears. "I love you, Nana."

"I love you too, child."

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Amber opened her eyes to a reddish-orange light that danced like firelight to her left and the smell of something she didn't recognize wafting around the dark room. She lay on her side on something unbearably hard. She reached out a hand, but something hindered her from full range of motion. Something clinked behind her as she tried to move. It clinked again when she tried to move her left arm. Chains… Oh God. Tears began to drop from her eyes.

"Please let me go."

"Shh…"

"Who's there?"

"Don't worry. It'll be over soon."

The voice was kind, but also full of something that made the hair stand up on the back of her arms.

"Who are you?"

"My name is JJ."

She turned her head to the right and saw that a woman stood near her. She angled up her gaze to dark blue eyes that looked down on her from the orange-red light. She flinched and tried to roll away from the animosity in the gaze, but the other woman crouched next to her and grabbed her arm.

"You've been chosen to help teach the people of Salem Village a lesson they will never forget."

"Don't touch me," she hit out and the woman jerked back and hissed.

She reached out and slapped Amber hard across the face. "You'll pay for that, little girl. The Master won't like your belligerent attitude."

Tears of pain ran down her cheeks, but something in her rose up. "Don't touch me again, bitch."

JJ laughed. She reached out again and stroked Amber's hair. "You are a feisty one, aren't you? You're death will be sweet for the Master."

"Let me go," Amber screamed. "You're crazy."

"I'm not crazy. I've been freed from all the nonsense you call compassion, and love, and fair play. The Master has stripped all that away from me and I'm liberated."

"I don't want your freedom," Amber spat at her

She yanked on the chains even though they cut painfully into her wrists.

"Oh, that was never an option for you, my dear. You're to serve as the final sacrifice."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry, you'll see and then you'll understand."


	13. The Unexpected Witness

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Unexpected Witness_**

Emily walked into her hotel just after eleven London time. She dropped her purse on her coffee table and sighed. Her head pounded right behind her eyes and she began to wonder if she needed to have them checked. She stretched her arms up over her head and groaned as her neck cracked. She'd struck out with her contacts in Geneva. None of her friends knew anything about the Sandersons, or, if they did, they weren't talking. She shook her head at thinking about the late dinner she'd suffered through with her Interpol counterpart. Pierre Marceau was very good looking, tall, dark and handsome, and very arrogant. He'd insisted on dinner before he would talk to her and then he spent the last two hours trying to get her to invite him up to her room. There was no way that was ever going to happen. Well, it had to be done. She had a job to do.

Her phone sang out to her and she groaned again. The number on the display wasn't familiar and for a minute, she almost didn't answer it, but what the hell, her evening was ruined anyway.

"Prentiss," she said briskly.

"Hello," someone whispered. "Is this Emily Prentiss?"

"Yes, who is this please?"

"It's Anna Sanderson."

She sat up straight and grabbed her bag. She rummaged for her pen and notepad as she spoke. "Mrs. Sanderson, how can I help you?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't speak louder. My husband is in the next room. I couldn't think of an excuse to come see you."

"It's alright. Is everything okay?"

"No," Anna said and Emily heard tears in her voice. "I didn't want to come here, but Edward insisted. He was so angry when Tracey was murdered."

"Why is he angry with you?"

"How did you know?"

"I could see it in your eyes today." There was a very long pause. "Are you still there?"

"Yes… I'm sorry I didn't tell you this afternoon, but you have to understand. My husband is very proud. His family's been in the Danvers area since the Mayflower. My family only moved to Danvers twenty years ago. I don't come from money, Ms. Prentiss."

She was silent again and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. "I just heard Edward get into the shower. I saw something that night."

"What did you see?"

"I saw this awful figure. It was all in black with some kind of flowing cloak. It looked like something out of a horror movie. It sort of looked human, but it wasn't and then I saw -"

She burst into tears and cried for several minutes. "I'm so sorry for your loss Mrs. Sanderson. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now. I want to help you, though. Can you tell me the rest?"

"It killed my daughter. How could anyone do that?" Her voice rose to a breathless shriek. "She was only seventeen."

Emily pulled her sweater tight around her waist. A sudden chill had invaded her being and goose pimples rose up on the skin of her arms.

"Let me help you," she continued as she went to the little coffee station at the other side of her living area.

"Edward said you'd think I was crazy. That's why we left. He said they'd lock me away."

"I'm not interested in locking you away or questioning your sanity. I know you saw something very strange, Mrs. Sanderson."

"How can you help me if you don't believe me?"

Emily poured creamer and a little sugar into her coffee. She shouldn't drink it this late, but there was no chance she'd sleep now.

"I believe you," Emily said. "Tell me the rest."

"I saw something else in the dark that night. Edward said I was seeing things, but he's wrong. I know what I saw and you have to stop her."

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Reid looked at his watch; it was coming up on four in the afternoon. He stretched like a cat and sighed. He couldn't stop his mind from skipping away to JJ. She hadn't made an appearance all day. Maybe he should…No; he pulled his hand away from his phone. He wouldn't call her. After all, it wasn't the first time she'd behaved that way on the job. Hotch chose to ignore it because she was a profiler now.

He tried to go back to the map he'd been studying, but he couldn't help but think of something that had bothered him for months. JJ had lost her softness. She'd lost that quality that made her so good with victims and families. It didn't take a psychologist to see that she was acting out because she felt inadequate. She was over compensating because she was the new profiler not the old liaison.

"Hey," Blake said as she came into the room.

He jumped a little and tried to cover by ducking under his chair for the pen he'd knocked off the table.

"What?" he said as he popped up.

"We have a problem. I went back to the hotel to check up on JJ and she's not there."

Reid shrugged. "I'm sure she's okay. She's proven time and again in the last two years that she can take care of herself."

Blake studied him for a minute then sat down across the table. "Look, I know I haven't known her for very long, but I can tell there is a distance between you. I know something of what happened with Agent Prentiss and -"

"It's not about Emily. JJ's changed since she came back from the DOD. She's brittle, hard, sarcastic and uncaring. She used to be one of Garcia's best friends and now they hardly spend any time together. She treats Garcia and me as if we're the weakest links on the team chain. I don't understand it because if she doesn't believe in our abilities, why did she makes us Godparents to her son?"

"I don't know," Blake said. "Maybe she's feeling -"

Reid's phone buzzed. "Reid," he said a bit impatiently.

"Hey, what's wrong," Emily said.

"Hi, Emily," he squeaked and Blake's eyebrows went up.

"Don't "hi me," Reid. What's going on?"

"It's nothing. What're you calling for, it's late in Geneva?"

"True, but get the rest of the team; I have something to tell you."

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"Hey, Emily," Morgan greeted as Reid put them on speaker.

"Hi everyone," she responded.

"What is it?" Hotch said.

"Mrs. Sanderson called me. To make a very long story short, she witnessed the same dark figure the night her daughter was killed."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Drake said furiously. "This is her daughter."

"Apparently, you can thank Mr. Sanderson for that. He convinced her that everyone would think she was crazy and put her away."

"It's like the Moth Man sightings in Point Pleasant, WV in 1966," Reid blurted out. "No one wanted to admit it at first, but after a few brave souls came forward, dozens of people admitted to seeing the creature with fiery red eyes."

"This isn't the same thing," Drake said.

"No, but he has a point," Emily said. "You can dismiss a teenage kid and a man with developmental challenges, but you can't dismiss a couple of reliable citizens."

"How does that help us?" Hotch wanted to know.

"Because Anna Sanderson also saw someone else that night, a young woman with red hair was watching their home at the same time the creature appeared. She was standing in the woods that surround the property. Mrs. Sanderson said she often drinks tea on the balcony overlooking their back acreage after the sun goes down and that's when she saw this creature and the woman. She said she recognized her.

"Do you have a name?"

"I thought you'd never ask Hotch."

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The young woman picked up the doll made from sticks of ancient oak tree and began to bind it with a scarlet cloth.

"This isn't going to work, Nana."

"It will work, when we have all the power we need. The FBI will discover the loss of their agent and soon they will know what you witnessed that night. They will come here."

The younger woman put the doll on the altar and stepped back. "They'll say I killed her."

"No, child, I have seen your fate and it's not jail that you're a bound for, my sweet."

She whirled around as the wind picked up and shook the leaves on the trees. The secret clearing her ancestors had hidden from mortal eyes with spells and enchantments had never frightened her. It was the outsiders that scared her. They didn't understand.

"Look into your heart," he grandmother said. "Look into the crystal ball and see." The old woman pointed to the altar.

"I don't have time. I have to finish the spell."

"There is always time for what is most important. Remember what I taught you as a child."

She nodded and closed her eyes. "Breathe deep and imagine that your part of the trees around you. Imagine that you could rise on the wind and go wither you would on its wings."

She felt the wind whisper in her ears and the trees shake around her in the eternal dance of nature. Her heart slowed and her breathing deepened. She opened her eyes and began to stare deep into the round crystal ball on the altar. "Yes," she murmured. "I see."

"You have surpassed all that I have hoped for you and fulfilled all that I have seen. You will take your place as my successor."

"No," the young woman turned her head away. "Not for many years, Nana."

"You can't not change what The Goddess decrees, or go against the Natural Order of things, but I will be here to see you through this final test."

She hugged her granddaughter tight to her bosom. "Now, we must collect the last of the ingredients we need for the final spell. Evil is gathering in this place just as it did 300 years ago. We must finally put an end to the curse that has haunted this town."


	14. The Pentacle

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Pentacle_**

"Her name is Sera Hawthorne," Emily said. "I had Garcia dig up everything she can find. Anna Sanderson saw her at the edge of their property at the same time she saw the dark figure. She said she called for Edward and he set his own private security after Sera, but she vanished."

"Did she tell you anything else?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, apparently the families have been polite and sometimes violent enemies, since the 17th century."

"Thanks, Emily."

"You're welcome. See you later," she was gone.

Reid disconnected the call and everyone turned his or her eyes on Drake.

"What?"

"Something else you neglected to tell us."

Drake pulled up to his full height and passed a hand through is graying hair. "Do you really expect me to go into all the little dirty secrets and family feuds in this town? We'll be here a month and no closer to catching a killer."

"No," Hotch said. "I don't expect you to go into detail about every family fight, but I do expect you to tell me what's relevant to the families involved in this investigation."

Drake pulled on the dark blue tie he wore with a blue and white pinstriped shirt. "I don't know that much about it," he prevaricated.

"That's alright," Morgan began with a predatory smile. "What you don't tell us, Garcia will fill in and believe me, she doesn't care about secrets."

"Look, if I told you that three hundred years ago an ancestor of the Hawthorne family put a curse on the Sanderson family, you would have thought I was crazy."

"What happened?"

Drake simply stared at Hotch. "I don't believe this."

"Detective, I don't know what is going on here, but one of my people is missing, there've been multiple sightings of a dark figure in this town and now I hear about a curse on the family of the first victim. I don't know what else to think until you give me reason not to."

"Alright, I'll tell you the story. The Hawthorne women have always been witches. They survived the centuries by hiding their Wicca beliefs, all except one. Her name was Abigail and she was burned at the stake for witchcraft in 1692 at the height of the trials."

"I thought all Salem witches were hung," Blake said.

"They were, but a month before Abigail was burned, an infant belonging to Samuel and Mary Sanderson was stolen from her cradle. The body of the infant was found sacrificed in the woods near here. Apparently, the Town Magistrate, also Samuel Sanderson, had become suspicious of Abigail and had her watched, but he wasn't able to stop the murder of his own child. Abigail Hawthorne was caught in the act of sacrifice. She's the only documented case of execution for witchcraft that actually had some merit."

"What about her trial?" Reid wanted to know.

"There's no record of a trial. I only know the people of Salem were out for blood. The Sandersons were well respected and the townspeople sided with them, but considering the circumstances, she didn't have much of a defense. The story goes that she went to her death proclaiming her innocence, but after they tied her to the stake, she cursed the town. She said, "As I burn, so shall you."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Morgan said. "Hotch, are we really considering that somehow this Abigail Hawthorne is back and killing the ones responsible for her death."

"No," Hotch said. "I am considering that Sera Hawthorne might have something else in mind and is using the old superstitions to cover her real agenda."

"I don't believe it," Drake said. "Abigail had a three year old son. Her husband took the child away from Salem. The family stayed away this area for the next 150 years. When they moved back, the animosity with the Sanderson was there, but aside from a few incidents, nothing has happened to make me think the Hawthorne family practices evil magic. They have always sought to help the people of this town. They have a shop The Pentacle. Detective Snyder swears by the lavender shampoo they make right at the store. The store brings in a lot of business tax revenue from all over the country. They have a thriving online business as well."

"Witches online," Morgan smirked.

Drake smiled, which changed his face. "Well, they have to make a living, too. Sera's grandmother, Martha says that just because the world advances in technology doesn't mean Wicca should be left behind."

"Garcia would love that," Morgan quipped.

Everyone smiled around the table.

"None of this explains what happened to JJ and how the girls were actually killed."

"I think we need to go see Sera Hawthorne."

Morgan's phone beeped. "Hey baby girl." He put her on speaker.

"I have some very interesting info for you, about Anna Henderson."

"I thought you were looking into the Hawthorne family."

"I was, but I found something much better and it could be relevant to the case."

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Reid followed Morgan and Rossi into "The Pentacle." The storefront, at the north end of Main Street, resembled a white frame house. The sun, going down in the west, threw scarlet and orange light over the windows. The wind came up just as Reid stepped out of the truck. It tossed his hair around his face just as it had outside the police station, but this time it didn't feel cold. It was like a warm bath, or the sound of Maeve's voice. He stopped, but Rossi and Morgan didn't notice. For some reason, he didn't feel the same kind of soul numbing pain at thinking about Maeve.

"She'll be with you always," said a whispering voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

He started when bell dinged as Rossi opened the shop door. Morgan looked back at him, "Hey, Pretty Boy, quit staring into space."

"What?"

Morgan walked back to him. "What's wrong, Reid?"

"It's nothing; let's go talk to Ms. Hawthorne."

"Hey, you know I'm here for you."

Reid smiled sadly. "I know, Morgan. Thanks."

"You're welcome, now get inside before Rossi comes looking for us."

They went inside and the bell, suspended over the door chimed again, a happy little tune that made Reid smile. It was the same as a thousand other stores of its kind, but it made him happy for some reason.

The inside of the store didn't meet his expectations. He expected that there would be a lot of black, herbs hanging from the ceiling, perhaps a cauldron bubbling away in one corner and thick curtains at the windows.

Instead, he found highly polished wooden floors, white painted walls, and shelves everywhere with bottles, pots, and tubes, all neatly and professionally labeled. Above a glass display case of charms on purple velvet, hung the logo of the shop, a pentagram with an enclosed circle and the words "The Pentacle," written in a half moon around the outside of the circle.

Rossi had just rung the bell on the counter, when Reid and Morgan joined him. Matching purple velvet curtains that hid some back room, swayed and a beautiful woman with eyes like sapphires and wavy blond hair entered the room.

"Blessed be," she said and smiled. "I've been expecting you."

Rossi lifted an eyebrow. "You've been expecting us. How do you know who we are?"

"I saw your coming in the cards," said another voice behind the blonde woman.

She was very short, but had similar facial features and eye color. Although her looks were faded with age, Reid could see she'd once been beautiful.

"Who are you?" Rossi asked.

"I am Martha and this is my granddaughter Sera. You're the FBI, come to save this town from a terrible curse."

"We don't -"

"I know you're skeptical," she said to Morgan. "Soon you'll see the power you have and it will help you save your teammate."

"What do you mean?" Rossi's tone dropped his voice to ice. "What do you know?"

"I know that she is in grave danger. I know that all of Danvers Village will suffer if you don't break the spell tonight."

"We don't know -"

She interrupted Rossi with a look that reminded him of a certain nun he'd known in childhood. She went to Reid with a quickness of step that startled them all.

"You're the key," she said.


	15. The Warrant

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Warrant_**

Hotch's phone beeped just after Morgan, Reid and Rossi left the police precinct. He spoke for a long while then turned his attention to Detective Drake.

"We need to get into Sanderson Chemicals, right now."

The detective's eyebrows went up. "What's going on?"

"That was Garcia. The federal and state labs finally have an answer for us about what started the fires. The chemical signature on the bodies matches a new accelerant designed by Sanderson Chemicals."

"It won't be easy with Sanderson out of the country. His younger brother manages the place for him and you don't want to tangle with him."

"Perhaps you don't, but I'm not in the mood to be stonewalled."

He pulled out his phone and spoke at some length to the person on the other end. "We'll have a federal warrant faxed over in a few minutes."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Hotch simply stared at him as they waited for the fax machine to spit out the warrant. "I don't like strong arming local business men, but we have a missing agent and another missing woman. Either one of them could end up on a stake. I'm not going to let that happen because the Sanderson family refuses to cooperate with this investigation."

"I'm with you," Drake said. "The Sanderson family likes to do things their own way. If they're involved, I wanna know."

The fax machine beeped and they stared at it as if it might be giving them the answer to the meaning of life. Hotch snatched up paperwork and hurried out of the room with Drake and Blake hot on his heels.

They left the station with three other police officers in separate vehicles. Blake rode in front with Hotch, but she spoke over her shoulder. "It's interesting that the Sanderson's own a chemical plant, especially in light of what we just learned. It's not big surprise they left the country."

"How many businesses do the Sandersons own in this town?"

"Besides the chemical plant, there's a real estate office, a paper recycling plant if you can believe that, and he branched out to selling solar power equipment. He's also got controlling interest in one of the local bars, but no one is supposed to know about that. I hear he has some less than stellar off shore holdings too. He isn't hurting for money."

"The green side of his business doesn't seem to go with a chemical plant," Blake said.

"I personally think he's trying to rehab his image. There was a significant accident at the plant five years ago. Some of his workers were injured in an explosion. One was killed, and before you ask," he held up a hand. "I looked into all of that before we called you in. There's no connection to what's happened to these girls. Anyway, if someone just wanted revenge on the Sandersons, why go after the other girls?

"Because the un-sub discovered that he likes killing. Why stop now?"

Drake looked out the window at the setting sun. "I suppose you're right. Still, this case is the weirdest I've ever had. I keep thinking the witch trials are back, or I've fallen asleep and I'm dreaming."

"It's not a dream," Hotch said firmly. "This is a real killer. We just have to find him."

After the team gave the profile to the locals, two officers had visited the Sanderson plant and had left empty handed and with the threats of David Sanderson ringing in their ears.

When Hotch drove through the gates, a security car blocked his path. "Let me talk to them," Drake said.

Hotch nodded, "I agree, you know these people."

Drake got out of the car and talked to two security guards through the open window of their four by four. They went back and forth for a long time. Drake gesticulated with his hands and his face took on a scowl that could have rivaled Hotch on his best day. Finally, Hotch was on the point of getting out of the car when Drake finally gave the white four by four a slap with his hand and turned back to the SUV.

"They're getting David Sanderson. He refuses to let us inside. We'll have to talk to him out here."

"I think he'll find that a federal warrant might change his mind," Hotch said as he patted his jacket pocket.

They waited impatiently for ten minutes. Finally, a second white vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, pulled up to the gate and a man got out.

He was tall, at least six foot three, with blond hair and a handsome face shaped like a square that framed the Sanderson blue eyes. He wasn't smiling and he strode purposely to them on jean-clad legs.

"I told the storm troopers you sent down here yesterday that I -"

Hotch stepped out of the car, which forced David Sanderson to step back like a scalded cat. "We have a warrant to search the premises," Hotch interrupted.

He surveyed the huge brick building that housed the main body of the plant. It was three stories high with steel pipes and glass windows. Everything was very clean, but the chemical smells that hit him as he left the truck told the true purpose of the building. He could detect sulfur, and something else that his nose didn't like. Hadn't Reid said once, that smell was the weakest sense? He hoped that was the case.

"I'm calling my lawyer," David said, and his blue eyes seem to spark under his carefully manicured eyebrows.

"Go right ahead," Hotch said as the others began to get out of cars. "You can explain to him that the new chemical accelerant you're working on for the government has fallen into the wrong hands, or maybe you're the one killing these young girls.

Smoke rose out of one smokestack. It spiraled into the air three hundred feet above the roof of the plant. It was white, and billowing, like puffs of cotton. It looked pure to Hotch, but he knew it wasn't because looks were always deceiving. He figured that if he could see the steam that must be coming out of Sanderson's ears, it was probably black.

David Sanderson stood in a relaxed stance with his arms at his sides, but his hands were balled up into fists. The wind tossed his hair and blew more unpleasant smells their way as Hotch stood toe to toe with him. "Are we going to have a problem?"

"No," David said through teeth clenched so tightly, that Blake thought they might break under the weight of his jaw. "I'm not saying another word until my lawyer arrives."

He backed away from Hotch and returned to his Jeep. Hotch got back into the SUV and drove behind the Jeep until it reached the offices around the back of the plant.

"Let's go," he said and left the car.

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Amber tried to move her arms but they were dead. Sometime in the night, she'd been moved and now she stood on legs that were so sore from being tied in the same position for hours, she could barely stand.

More red light poured out from somewhere down a long stone hallway that resembled the room she'd been held in. How long had she been here? It seemed like it had been days.

She couldn't speak anymore because her throat was raw from screaming for help in this black place where water dripped in the distance. Something reeked of decay but she couldn't see what it might be. It reminded her of a dead rabbit she'd once come across in the woods when she was a child. She'd screamed and her father had come running. He'd pulled her away, and they'd just left the poor little thing lying there. Daddy had said that nothing could be done, but she'd cried for days. Sometimes in her dreams, she'd see that rabbit, torn open and bloody lying in the rotting leaves next to a downed tree covered in green moss. Sometimes the eyes of the rabbit would open and it would stare accusingly at her as if she were responsible for killing it. Sometimes it spoke to her, but she couldn't understand the words.

"No," she mumbled as she tried again to pull on the chains that held her in place.

"It's nearly time," said a voice from the dark.

"Please," she whispered. "Please…"

"You're the last," said the voice and then it chuckled.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as more fear, more than she ever felt, even in the face of the chains and the blackness around her. The light, as scarlet as fresh blood, began to throb as though it were a living heart. She screamed and the voice laughed. It rang through the passageway and echoed like the pealing of long forgotten church bells. Darkness filled her eyes and the red light dimmed.

"Now…"

"No," she whispered.

"I shall be made whole and have my revenge."

"No," her eyes closed and the darkness became perfect.

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"You will go," the voice said.

"As you wish, my master; they will not defeat us."

JJ pushed back the black cloak she wore and walked to a shimmering pool of water in the center of a circular stone room. She stepped into the icy water and disappeared from view.

"She will betray us," said another voice.

"It does not matter. They don't believe the evidence of their eyes."

"What of the white witches?"

"They will fail, as they always have," said the first voice. "You know this is true. Soon, you will be reborn and you will do all you failed to do in your former life."

"Yes, my master."


	16. Family Connections

**_Disclaimer:see my profile_**

**_Family Connections_**

"What do you mean, I'm the key?" Reid demanded.

Sera and Martha regarded him with something in their eyes, he didn't recognize and it made chills go down his spine. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was like the feeling outside the shop. They didn't answer his questions but he did hear something in his head.

_Your pain gives you strength, young Spencer Reid._

He flicked his eyes back to Martha and realized that it was her voice he could hear.

_Remember her love, and you will find the answer._

"You're being misled," Sera said. "It is not a man that haunts that which was once called Salem Village. An old evil has returned."

"Are you referring to Anna Sanderson? Is that why you were there the night her daughter was taken?" Rossi asked so bluntly that Martha's cheeks went white.

"You presume to know too much," Martha interrupted.

"I know that Anna Sanderson is a descendent of the Hawthorne family. When Joseph Hawthorne and his son left Sleepy Hollow in 1692, they traveled to Virginia, where they settled. Joseph married again and had several children. One of his daughters was an ancestor of Anna. I'll bet she didn't spread that around when she came back. Did you know?"

Martha kept Morgan's gaze without flinching. "I know she is my blood, if that's what you're asking."

"Anna Sanderson doesn't know," Morgan stated.

"No, and we wanted to keep it that way, even though she is our family. It's not our place to drive a wedge into her life."

"You said, wanted," Rossi said.

"I saw what happened to poor Tracey that night. Sera went to warn Anna, but the demon showed itself first."

"How did you see what happened?"

"I saw it in my crystal ball."

Rossi and Morgan looked at each other, but Reid's eyes were fixed on Martha. She was perfectly serious he could see, but it couldn't be right.

_You know there is more than science and reason. You learned that when you loved her._

He shook the voice out of his head as Rossi said. "Ma'am forgive me, but -"

Martha smiled at him. "I know you don't believe, but you will. Only together can we save your missing friend."

"What do you know about her?" Morgan demanded and his voice was like the depths of Artic winter and his eyes just brittle.

"I know that she has been taken by the same evil that haunts this village, the one that has taken the lives of three innocent girls. Another girl's life hangs in the balance; do you want to risk it?"

"Of course not," Morgan said, "but you can't be serious. Demons and witchcraft?"

"In my experience, evil can take on any form it chooses, Agent Morgan."

"In my experience, evil is usually from men, not from the devil."

Sera suddenly smiled and Reid flinched a little. It was the smile of someone who knew something so important; it could change all their lives."

"This one knows," she said and pointed to Reid. "You have an open mind."

Morgan and Rossi looked at him and he shrugged. He opened his mouth, but what came out wasn't what he had planned to say. "How often have I said to you, that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, _must _be the truth?"

"Even I know that one, pretty boy. Sherlock Holmes."

_Sherlock Holmes. Code names. Why? Such a stupid thing to do. Just a game they played when they should have faced reality. He should have faced reality and - oh god, what good did it do? He couldn't change anything. _

"_Love you," Maeve's voice whispered to him. _

"_Stop. I love you so much, but I can't stand it. Not now!" _

"What are you saying?"

Reid flicked his eyes to Rossi who stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "I just mean that we have to consider the possibility that Ms Hawthorne is right."

"You can't be serious."

"I don't believe that demons are running loose around Danvers village, but you have to admit there is something very strange going on that we haven't considered."

"You have considered it, but you refuse to believe. You must let go of your reason," Sera repeated.

"I think we should talk about facts," Morgan said. "The fact is that Sera was seen on Sanderson property. You say you were there to warn. Where were you on the nights the other girls disappeared?"

Martha silenced Sera with a look. "I may be a witch, but I know my rights. I think I'll call my lawyer."

"Do you really want a trip to the station?"

"It's alright, Nana. They're only trying to do their jobs. I am here most every night, with Nana. I'm the only family she has left. Despite the fact that this town tolerates us, and they support this store, we don't have many friends."

"Most people are ignorant of what it means to be Wicca," Martha said. "They think you ride around on broomsticks, have warts on your noses and dress in black. Tell me you weren't surprised when you walked in here and saw our shop?"

Rossi and Morgan looked at each other. "Um, I thought it was strange," Reid said. "Sorry."

Martha rubbed her hand over her face and suddenly swayed on her feet. Sera led her over to a chair behind a glass counter that contained pieces of jewelry and charms in pewter and sterling silver with brightly colored jewels.

"You're upsetting her," Sera hissed like a cat. "I want you to get out."

"It's okay, my dear. They're only doing their jobs."

She sat down and breathed in. She coughed and Sera reached for a tube that lay on the counter. "No," Martha waved her away. "I'll be okay."

"Ma'am, we don't what to upset you, but -"

"I'm prepared to swear that Sera was here with me every night for the last month," Martha interrupted firmly.

"Do you have any enemies?"

Sera glanced at her Grandmother, then back at Rossi. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Martha coughed again. "Can you please leave us alone? My grandmother needs her rest."

"One more question," Rossi said. "Are you sure that no one else knows that Anna Sanderson is a Hawthorne?"

Sera and Martha shook their heads. "If they do, we don't know them. As I said, we haven't told anyone. If Anna told someone…"

They were silent for a long minute. The women looked at each other and something seemed to pass between them.

"Thank you, for your cooperation," Rossi said. "I don' have to tell you not to leave town."

"Wait," Martha called out to them.

She reached into the glass case and removed a small pewter charm with an elaborately carved M hanging from it. "For you," she said to Reid and held it out to him.

"I can't accept that, ma'am."

His hand wanted to reach out for it despite the fact that there was no way the woman could know about Maeve. The M could stand for anything. It didn't have to be the name of his beloved.

"It's not expensive."

"We're not allowed, ma'am," Rossi said.

"As you like."

She dropped it into a small box and slipped it into the pocket of the skirt she wore. "If you change your mind, you have only to ask."

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"It's going to take a forensic account, weeks to go through all of that," Blake said as they entered the police station.

It was black dark out and they had boxes full of files in the back of the SUV from David Sanderson's office.

"Or," Hotch said as he carried one of those boxes into the conference area. "We could ask someone we know to go through it."

"Guys," Reid squeaked excitedly. "I found something interesting. I can't believe I didn't see it before. I guess visiting The Pentacle must have made some kind of subconscious connection in my head because I suddenly realized the connection between all the girls and the places where they were killed."

"Do we dare ask," Rossi asked with a grin.

Reid was marking something on a map with a black market and a ruler. He connected the last two lines and stepped back. "Do you see it?"

"It's a pentagram," Blake said.

"Yes," Reid agreed. "The Pentagram as long been associated with both good and evil. An inverted pentagram, or a pentagram with two points on top is thought to represent a goat, which is a symbol used in Satan worship.

The five points of the pentagram are said to represent the five wounds of Christ and in Nature religions such as Wicca, they represent the four elements, fire, water, air and earth with a spirit presiding over the rest.

The pentagram is sometimes enclosed in a circle that represents binding the elements together or bringing them into harmony."

"What does it all mean?" Drake said impatiently.

"The homes of the victims and the places where their bodies were found all make a pattern over the village."

"The center of the pentagram is right over the courthouse."

"The last point," Morgan added. "Is the last victim, Amber Findley?"

"Are you saying he's taken his last victim?"

Reid glanced up at Blake. "Yes."

"What's his endgame," Drake asked the room.

"We figure that out, and we'll have him," Hotch said. "For now, we need to look at this from all angles."

Reid looked up when he realized finally realized the room was too quiet.

"What?"

He noticed that Hotch, and rest of the team were staring at him in a very familiar way.

"Why are you all staring at me?"

"If we turn all this over to a forensic accountant, it'll take too much time. We need answers now."

Reid pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "Alright, but it looks like my coffee cup is empty."

Rossi coughed behind his hand. "Then someone better fill it."

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Two hours later, Reid's eyes were burning, and his coffee cup was empty. A small sound drew his attention to the door.

"I guess I missed the party," JJ said from the doorway."

"Where've you been," Hotch demanded.

"You did miss me," she said lightly. "I'm flattered."


	17. The Altar

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Altar_**

"Are you alright?" Hotch demanded of JJ.

"I'm fine. I went out for a long drive. The trees are so beautiful this time of year. I just couldn't help myself."

"You should have told us where you were going."

JJ sat down next to Reid and flipped back her blond hair. She studied her fingernails as she spoke.

"I didn't think I needed to check in with you, Hotch. You're the one that told me to stay away from the police station."

"That doesn't mean you can just wander all over town without telling us where you're going."

"I'm an adult, Hotch. I can do what I please and go where I please. You're the one that ordered me off this case."

"We were concerned," Hotch said calmly. "Blake went to see you and you weren't in your room. What were we supposed to think?"

"I'm sorry," JJ said and she suddenly sounded normal.

Reid watched her out of the corner of his eye while he made a show of ignoring her for his work. He listened intently to her voice. Martha and Sera said that JJ had been taken by evil, but that couldn't be right. She was right there in the flesh. He could even smell the remnant of her favorite lilac scented soap. She told him once that she didn't wear perfume to work, that no one would take her seriously if she did. Her hair looked the same, but there was something in her eyes that wasn't right.

He flicked his eyes back to the chemical plant files. He was letting the witches at The Pentacle get to him. They didn't have special powers, there was no such thing as real magic and spells. The power of suggestion was the only magic in life. The mind made its own magic.

Hotch was talking, but Reid hadn't heard most of what he said.

"…need to know what you're doing. You're still on the payroll."

JJ nodded, but she didn't seem to be concerned by the implied threat. "I did find something when I was driving around town, that I think you'll be interested in."

Hotch's laptop beeped and Garcia swam into view. She wore her hair in braids on either side of her head. She had a huge purple flower behind her right ear and matching earrings shaped like stars. Her blouse was purple with yellow stripes. She smiled, and then spotted JJ.

"Hey Jayje, are you alright? We're so worried about you."

"I'm fine, Garcia. I just went out for a drive."

"What've you got for us?" Hotch interrupted.

"I found something interesting. Reid asked me to look into the original maps of Salem Village. The town center, where most of the witches were executed, was right where the courthouse is today."

"Do we think the un-sub will leave his next victim at the courthouse?" Drake asked.

"It's the best lead we've had so far. The problem is that the un-sub always takes his victims, and then kills them after two days. It's been nearly that since Amber Findley was taken. We can't wait. We have to get ahead of him."

"I said, I found something," JJ interrupted.

"You have our attention," Hotch said. "Please…"

"I was driving around, looking at the fall leaves, and I came across a dirt road near mile marker 17."

"That's an old fire road," Drake said. "I thought it was chained.

"Well, it wasn't," JJ, said without looking at Drake. "I got out of the car followed it in. I walked in about a quarter of a mile and turned north again. I was about to go back when I saw something through the trees."

She stopped as if pausing for dramatic effect. No one spoke, so she shrugged and went on. "I walked in about a hundred yards and I found an altar."

"What kind of altar?"

"The kind with half burned black candles, and a pentagram drawn around it in red. Not sure if the red is paint or, blood, but it was recent. There were flowers and herbs scattered around. It was creepy. The strangest thing was I didn't hear any animals or birds. It's like they all just disappeared."

"Did you take any photographs?"

JJ ignored Drake again. "I was freaked out. I got the hell out of there and drove back here."

"What makes you think it has anything to do with our case?"

She made direct eye contact with Hotch. It was as though he were the only one in the room. "Because I also found a dead bird on the altar. It was a dove."

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Reid sat in the back of SUV. He rode with Hotch and Morgan, while Drake, JJ, Blake rode behind them. There were two radio cars with local uniforms bringing up the rear. They rode in silence without lights. If this place in the woods was the place they needed to be to find the un-sub, they didn't want to tip him off.

"What are you thinking?"

Reid looked up at Hotch. "I was just thinking about JJ. She told Morgan and me years ago that she's afraid of the woods. Why would she go in there alone?"

"Are you saying you think she made it up? Why?"

"I don't know, Hotch, it just doesn't ring true. It's as if she's describing an altar she saw in a movie or read about in some fictional novel. It doesn't sound like an altar used by Wicca."

"I admit that I don't like it," Hotch acquiesced. "We have to check it out, though. We need to get ahead of this guy."

"She does seem off," Morgan said, "but, she's changed so much since she returned to the BAU."

"I think we have to trust her until we know otherwise." Hotch said, and the subject was closed.

Morgan glanced over at Reid. He shrugged his shoulders and Reid returned to staring at the town's streets with their Halloween themed decorations. As they turned left, he noticed a small animal with eyes that shimmered in the dark. He decided it was a cat, and wondered if it was black.

_Beware_

He stiffened at the sound of Martha Hawthorne's voice in his head again.

_She will try to deceive you, as she has in the past. _

He closed his eyes and tried to push the voice out of his mind, but she wouldn't go.

_Believe, Spencer Reid, or your team and Amber Findley will pay the price._

"Hey," Morgan pushed a finger into his arm.

"What?"

"You look freaked out, pretty boy."

"I am, Morgan. JJ disappears and then just reappears. Why? How do we know she really went into the woods? This feels like a distraction to me."

"Why would JJ want to distract us?"

"There is room for precedence."

Morgan sighed. "Reid, I thought you were over that."

"I am over it. I'm just making a valid point. She's deceived us before and she's been acting very out of character. Please tell me you've noticed."

Morgan nodded and rubbed his head. "I have. The thought gives me a headache. I just can't see the point."

"I don't know, but there is something going on and I think we need to be careful."

"I agree with Reid," Hotch spoke up as they made another turn. "There's something not right about JJ."

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Reid stayed very close to Morgan, but not so close it looked like he was trying to stay close. He could understand JJ's fear. The trees sighed together like lovers, but with an undercurrent of frenzy in their branches that raised his panic level a little. The leaves crackled under his feet, and thank God, they didn't smell rotten, but the air did have something in it that touched something deep in the pit of his stomach. There were so many of them trampling through the forest that he didn't really hear the animals except for a couple of owls hooting. It was so dark, the light from their flashlights stabbed like lasers and for one crazy moment he wished for one of the so-called "real light sabers," he read about in the paper.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at their destination. JJ led them into a small clearing and she gestured to the altar that stood in the center. It looked like the stump of a huge tree that had long ago fallen and rotted away. He could see the garish red of the pentagram and the black candles. The carcass of the dove lay in the center of the altar and he nearly retched at the smell of blood.

"This is some kid or kids at play." Reid said. "It's disgusting and has the hallmarks of a budding psychopath, but it isn't Wicca or Satanism."

"I agree," Rossi said. "I've never seen this in all the research I did on cults and Satanism. Witches don't sacrifice animals. They are peaceful."

"I'm glad you think so," said a voice from the darkness.

Reid's hand flew toward his weapon as the rest of team turned toward the voice, which seemed to emanate from the north woods.

Hotch flipped up his flashlight first, and it stabbed into the trees like a single ray of sunlight. "Identify yourself," Morgan called out.

"FBI," Hotch, Reid and Blake said at the same time.

"Your weapons can't hurt me," the voice said.

"Then show yourself," Drake commanded. "It's late and I'm not in the mood for games.

"Oh, I don't that will be necessary. My servant is among you."

The wind whipped the trees into frenzy. Reid's bangs momentarily blocked his eyes, but it was long enough for something that he could only describe as a shadow pass over their heads and into darkness.

"Put down your weapons," said a new voice, but this time he knew the owner of that, voice and his heart hitched.

He whirled around to see JJ with her gun on them. "Put down your weapons, now," she commanded and Reid could see she wasn't JJ anymore.


	18. Bound

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Bound_**

Rossi spoke first just as an owl hooted in the distance and the wind whipped in the trees.

"JJ."

"Shut up," JJ spat at him. "Don't start with, put your gun down JJ, or JJ what are you doing? I know exactly what I'm doing. Reid," she hissed. "Come here."

"Don't," Hotch ordered. His eyes snapped over to Reid.

Reid's revolver was trained on JJ, but his hands trembled as he met her eyes. He wanted to glance away though, because the light he always saw in the cobalt depths was gone. Her eyes were utterly dead and suddenly it wasn't the cold wind that made him shiver.

"Who are you?" He asked.

JJ laughed and it was as if every bully he'd ever known was there in her face and in her voice. "You're losing it, Spencer. I'm JJ."

"No, you're not JJ. You look like her, but you're someone else."

"Reid," Hotch said when the young profiler began lowering his gun.

"I know what I'm doing."

He let his gun hang at his side, but his finger stayed on the trigger. He flicked off his flashlight and slid it into his pocket. "Tell me who you are."

"I told you, I'm JJ."

Reid nodded, "You want to play games. I'm fine with that."

He stepped toward her and she swung her gun directly at him. "If you're JJ, you won't hurt me."

"You don't know me at all."

"I know the mother of Henry and the wife of William wouldn't turn her gun on her family."

"Family," she spit. "You are not my family, Reid. You're just the guy I work with that thinks he's smarter than everyone else in the room. Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you shut up?"

"Yes, I do know. Tell me who you really are and why you're using JJ to hurt us."

JJ began to chuckle, but her voice changed, deepened a little and her eyes went black. "Very well, Spencer Reid. You're right, I'm not JJ. She's just a vessel I'm using until my servant finishes her work. You're getting in the way of that work."

"Who is your servant?"

"I'm sure it's a puzzle you can figure out all on your own."

"Reid," Hotch warned as the younger man took another step toward JJ.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" said the voice that wore JJ's face like a mask.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Poor little Reid. No one loves him," she sang out. "Well, that's not true, Dr. Maeve Donavon loved you and look what that got her. She trusted you, Spencer and you got her killed. You should put that gun to your head and end your worthless life."

"I thought about it, more than once, but I realized that I'd be giving up and I'll never give up."

He'd reached the halfway point between them when something changed in JJ's eyes, and suddenly she was looking out at him with bewilderment and pain. "Help me, Spence."

"JJ," he almost reached her side when the false face reared back up and took over.

"Stay back, you little shit head. This is my vessel and I will have her until my work is done."

"Tell us where you hid the girl."

The false JJ sneered. "I don't think so. Put down your gun and I'll take you to her."

"No," Morgan said. "I'll go with you."

"I'll go," Reid said over Morgan.

"No," said the team in unison.

"I'll go with you," Reid repeated to JJ. "If you promise not to hurt JJ or Amber."

The false JJ laughed. "I'll do what I like with this vessel. The girl, well let's just say she has been promised to my servant."

"Show me where they are."

The false JJ reached out toward Reid with something like triumph in her eyes.

"No," shouted another voice from without the circle of agents.

"You have no power here," said the voice of the other inside of JJ as her eyes fixed on the woods.

"It is you who has no power here," said Martha Hawthorne as she stepped out of the trees with Sera at her side. "The people of Danvers reject you, just as the villagers of Salem rejected you. Go now."

JJ reached out and grabbed Reid. Her hand bit into his arm and twisted so hard he cried out.

"Stop it, JJ," Morgan growled.

She laughed and it was like notes clashing on a piano. "Stay back," she said and yanked him to the left. "He is mine."

"Don't," Reid gasped between clenched teeth when Rossi moved. "I'm alright."

"Not in this life time," he replied.

Martha and Sera crossed the clearing as Hotch trained his gun on them instead of on JJ and Reid.

"Hotch," Reid said calmly. "They want to help."

The two witches began to chant as they came closer to JJ. The one that wasn't JJ screamed in pain and her grip loosened on Reid's arm. He pulled away and spun toward the Hawthorns. "Don't kill her."

They continued to chant. Rossi hurried forward and grabbed JJ as she began to collapse like a puppeteers doll with its strings cut.

"Stop," Reid said.

Rossi handcuffed her even though she didn't resist when he touched her. Her eyes closed and finally Martha and Sera fell silent.

"What did you do to her?" Reid demanded.

"We merely cast a binding spell on her. You friend is okay, but Amber Findley won't be if you don't do as we say."

"She was going to show us where to find the girl." Reid spat out.

"The one that has possessed your friend had no intention of helping you, Spencer Reid."

"What's going on here?" Morgan demanded.

"I can explain, but you must come with us or all will be lost."

"How can you trust them?" Morgan said as Hotch, and Blake began to follow the Hawthorns. "They show up here at the same time we do. How do we know they aren't behind all of this?"

"Because they're the ones that stopped JJ from hurting Reid," Blake said. "You saw that with your own eyes."

"Do you want to help Amber Findley?" Martha demanded of Morgan. "If you do, then you must put aside your doubts."

Rossi swung JJ up into his arms and Reid followed him back onto the path that led out of the woods and back to their vehicles. Morgan followed them after a minute. An owl and a bird called in the distance as the little clearing emptied of its human intruders.

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Amber shifted her shoulders and twisted her hips. The ropes that bound her bit into her skin like acid. They slid a little because the friction had caused her arms to start bleeding.

"Oh, ouch, damn it," she moaned.

Her eyes were swollen and they burned. She didn't think she had tears left to cry, but tears rolled down her face, and made her cheeks sting.

"Please," she groaned again as she had a million times, but it was no use. No one listened and no one cared.

"Amber Findley."

She flinched away from the voice. The one that had taunted her for all the long hours she'd been hidden away in this blackness. Maybe the hand that went with the voice would hit her again as it had every time she thought the pain would stop.

"Go away," Amber, screamed. "Let me go. I'll kill you."

She heard someone walk closer and light, bright and golden suddenly flashed over her like a spotlight. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain of the light on her eyes.

"I've been given the chance to return to this world. I must please my Master and he will give me immortality."

"W-what do you w-want?"

"I want you."

Amber blinked her eyes and tried to force them into focus against the bright light. A shadow stood to her left; it wavered in and out of the light in her stinging eyes.

"Why?"

"You complete the circle that was begun long ago. I promised the inhabitants of Salem Village that I would return and have my revenge. They dared to condemn me. I was the one with the power, while they crawled along and worshipped their God. They were the superstitious fools who couldn't see how pathetic their lives were until I showed them. They dared blame me for their misfortune."

"You're crazy," Amber said as her eyes finally came into focus.

"I've heard that before," said the voice of the shadow. "In fact, I heard it from the lips of your ancestor, Beatrice Findley. She was the first to accuse me. She told the others about the terrible things she saw me do."

The shadow finally walked out of more shadows and into the light around Amber, and she shrieked.

"I am the last thing your mortal eyes will ever see," said Abigail Hawthorne.


	19. Blood of the Betrayed

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_Blood of the Betrayed_**

Reid didn't know how they ended up in Sera and Martha's home, but the next thing he know he was helping Rossi tie JJ to a chair that looked as if it belonged to the seventeenth century. It was wooden, heavy, elaborately carved, and stained. It reminded him of a chair he'd once seen in a museum that had belonged to Louis the XVI of France. JJ, or the thing that was JJ, glared at him. She'd awoken in the SUV and had raved at them as they'd traveled out of the woods, but she was quiet incapable of moving. He looked up at Sera and she answered his unspoken question.

"She's bound by magic, but when we finish with the potion we'll need something else to keep her from hurting herself."

"Are you sure this is necessary?"

Martha aimed a scathing look at Reid. Her eyes blazed in their sockets. "Young man," she said imperiously. "I don't tell you how to do your job."

"Yes, but all of this," he gestured to a large pot bubbling on a very modern stove instead of a black caldron.

In fact, the kitchen was done in white and cream tones with light blue accents and marble counter tops that looked brand new. The stainless steel appliances went with the room but not with the witches that inhabited the house. It was bizarre, but somehow, he began to think that these women were the only way to help JJ.

"Do you want your friend released from the Devil's hold or not?"

Reid stepped back as the witch moved in his direction. She took up a long handled wooden spoon carved all over with symbols he didn't recognize. She dropped more herbs into the potion she made and stirred slowly.

She closed her eyes and began to chant in a low voice, and in a language, they'd never heard. Even Hotch seemed baffled, Reid noticed as the liquid in the pot turned a sickly yellow.

"Now," she opened her eyes and gestured impatiently at Morgan.

He held his fingers over the cauldron and let a few strands of JJ's hair fall into the mixture. It hissed, bubbled and turned brilliant orange.

The witch chanted and stirred the cauldron counter clockwise. It turned white and then became so clear; Reid could see the bottom of the pot. He looked up in surprise to find her staring at him.

"What now?"

She silenced Rossi's impatient question with a look that made Reid's palms sweat a little.

"We only lack the final ingredient."

"What is it?"

She pinned her eyes on Morgan. "The blood of the one betrayed."

She reached out, grabbed Reid's hand before anyone could stop her. She used a slim knife to poke the index finger of his right hand. He yelped, "Hey that hurts."

He tried to yank his hand away, but she was much stronger than she looked. She held his hand over the cauldron and ignored the protests of the rest of the team.

A couple of drops of his crimson blood dropped into the potion. It hissed again and turned dark purple.

Reid yanked his hand away and began to suck on his finger. "Why did you do that?" He whined after a minute.

"She betrayed you once, yes." Martha asked.

"I - um, Hotch I don't think I -"

"It's alright Reid. I'm sure JJ won't mind and I, for one, don't know what else we can do. We're out of options. I don't want to take her to the hospital. They'll just put her in the psych ward and her career will be over."

Reid glanced at Sera who held a very strange looking doll she called a poppet. It looked like a bundle of sticks tied with a crimson ribbon. It didn't have eyes or a face and that was very unsettling. Sera met his eyes, but she didn't smile at him. Her expression reminded him of when he concentrated very hard on his job.

"She lied to me. Um, I can't really say what happened."

"You don't have to tell me the details," Martha said. "You have forgiven her," she went on as though she already knew the answer.

"It was the most difficult thing I've ever done, but yes."

"Then, it will work to evict the evil being dwelling inside your friend."

"How do we make her drink it?"

"I'm not drinking that you bitch," JJ said from her chair.

She struggled against her bonds, but they were tied tightly, so all she could was glare at them and swear in a way that made Blake raise her eyebrows in surprise.

"She doesn't have to drink it."

Sera stepped forward and dropped the poppet into the bubbling pot. A flash of yellow light and a brief explosion had all of them except the witches shrinking back and pulling their weapons as if the hounds of hell were at their heels.

JJ shrieked and began to writhe as though something traveled beneath her skin. Her head fell back and her mouth yawned open. Her back bowed off the chair. The other voice that inhabited her screamed "No! I will not release her."

"You have no choice," Martha shouted. "You have no more power over her."

"You have defied me for the last time."

"GO!"

Reid flinched at the volume of Martha's command. The thing that inhabited JJ, shrieked again and then JJ seemed to collapse in her chair. Her eyes shut and her head sagged to the left. Her long hair fell over her face like a veil.

Something rushed past Reid. He didn't see it, at least not full on but kind of from the corner of his eye like a fleeting shadow. A cold wind accompanied the darkness as it fled. He whipped around to see it full on but it was gone.

"JJ," Blake shouted.

She hurried over to their teammate and pushed her head up with one shaking hand.

"Are you okay?"

JJ's eyes fluttered open and Reid saw that they were empty of the presence that had clouded them for two days. "Hotch?"

"I'm here."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, are you alright?"

He crouched down in front of her as the others crowded around her. She flicked her eyes over to Reid and then back to Hotch. "I'm fine. I'm just a little freaked out. It can't remember most of the last two days. What happened to me?"

Hotch began untying her ropes. "I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

"You mean the one that was inside me."

They all went very silent. Martha pushed through them and handed her a bottle of cold water. "Let it go, child. Your mind and spirit are wounded, but I promise that you'll be all right in time. You have your friends and they will help you."

"What can we do?" Blake said. "I saw it and I don't believe it."

"You have to save Amber Findley," Martha said. "You seven are her only hope. JJ," she knelt in front of the agent. "You know where she is, don't you."

"Hey, leave her alone," Morgan, said.

"It's okay," JJ argued as she sipped her water. "I said I don't remember most of what happened, but I do know where she is."

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Some time later Amber opened her eyes. She floated in a dark place where demons capered in the shadows and a voice whispered in her head terrible things she didn't want to hear. She was blind, but it was cold, so cold she couldn't feel her body. The whispers continued like insects buzzing in the summer air. The humming rose until it consumed everything, until she couldn't think, until she screamed in agony and someone laughed.

"It's time for you to complete the circle and fulfill your destiny. You're sacrifice will be remembered."

"No, please, don't hurt me. I'm so scared."

"I know you are but it's no use to weep. You're mine now."

Something touched her and burned through the searing cold that paralyzed her. The blazing heat wrapped around her throat and squeezed until a new blackness pulled her down into inescapable night


	20. The Circle

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_The Circle_**

"Martha Hawthorne, I can't say I'm surprised. It appears that the rumors about you are true"

Reid glanced up to see that Detective Drake stood in the background. He'd actually forgotten that the Danvers PD had a representative in the room. In fact, the rest of the team, including JJ seemed just as shocked.

"What rumors?" Blake wanted to know.

"That the Hawthorne women have real magical powers."

The old woman actually winked at him. "Let's just say it runs in the family. I hope that means you'll stop by the shop more often, Detective Drake."

"Yeah, I might just do that."

"Good, because we could use a fine looking man around like yourself, isn't that right, Sera."

"Nana," Sera exclaimed.

"Hey," JJ said. "I don't mean to be rude, but we have a girl to save and I think -"

"This time," Detective Drake interrupted.

They all stared and it was Rossi that broke first and began to laugh.

"I really am sorry," JJ said. "I wish I could say that it wasn't really me, but on some level, it was."

"That's ridiculous," Morgan began.

"No, it's not ridiculous. I'm a profiler and I know what people are capable when their masks are ripped away. It's like this intoxicating freedom. You can finally say all the things you keep back every day. I was there, trapped by this thing inside of me and watching and hearing everything, I did and say. I wanted to stop but I couldn't and part of me didn't want it to stop because I liked it."

Tears shimmered in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't know what really happened, but why don't we put it aside and find Amber."

JJ wiped her eyes, but she wasn't looking at Drake. Her eyes were glued on Reid's face. He stared back and something passed between them that made her nod ever so slightly. He didn't smile, but he inclined his head.

"How do we find Amber?"

"I know how to find her," JJ said.

"Where is she?"

JJ faced Hotch. "I don't know if I can get there, now that the other one is gone."

"You can," said Martha, "but there is something you have to know before you try."

Sera handed Martha a large book. It reminded JJ of the photo album she had of Henry at home, only it was larger and had to be real leather.

"This is my family history going back to the 14th century. It tells the story of Abigail Hawthorne and her burning as a witch in Salem, October 2nd 1692."

"There's no record of witch burnings in Salem." Reid insisted. "Even if there were, and it was hidden, Garcia would have found it. No one knows how to get into computer records like she does."

"Son," Martha said very patiently. "You might be brilliant, but you don't know everything. There are many little secrets that aren't included in the official records."

Reid ignored Morgan and Rossi's snort of laughter. Blake caught his eyes and smiled. JJ wouldn't look at him and Hotch had the same scowl that was normal for him.

"Every small town and village has secrets," Reid acquiesced, "But Detective Drake did tell us about her trial. I am surprised there's no official record of it."

Martha turned through the thick book bound in red leather. "This is Abigail Hawthorne."

They gathered around and JJ inhaled sharply and went white. "That's her. I saw her in that place I was in with Amber. Oh, God it was her, but she didn't look like this. She was…" She gripped Morgan's hand. "She looked like something you'd see out of a nightmare.

The others studied the drawing of Abigail that was carefully preserved under plastic. She was incredibly beautiful with long blond hair, eyes like sapphires and a heart shaped face, with a sneer on her lips rather than a smile.

"Her husband drew this," Sera said. "He was very talented."

"It's a family trait. We all have an artistic streak. Anyway, as you know, she murdered Sarah Sanderson. She was caught in the act by the members of the Town Council. The legend is that one of her on coven betrayed her. There was no trial." She looked significantly at Detective Drake. "No matter what you been told by those that gossip about my family.

She was burned without one because the Town Council wanted to make a special example of her. All the girls she has killed are descendents of members of the Town Council. Tracey's ancestor was the Judge that condemned her. It was his child that Abigail killed. I believe that Mary Todd, Amber's 6th great grandmother, was a member of the coven and the one that betrayed her. She mysteriously came into ownership of the original Hawthorne farm after Abigail was burned. It's been in their family ever since."

"So this is all about revenge."

"Yes, and she wants to come back. If she can complete her revenge by midnight, tonight, she'll become immortal."

"That's impossible," Morgan said.

"After all you've seen, you doubt," Martha shot back. "I assure you it's possible, but not without price. To come back from the dead this way will cause a great imbalance in nature. You have to stop her."

"We intend to, but how do we find her?"

"I told you, I can show you, but I don't know if it will work. I think it was the other, which gave me the power." JJ shivered.

"You can do it," Sera said. "You know the way. The power is a part of who you are now. The seven of you together are more powerful than she."

"We don't have any magical power," Reid pointed out. "As much as I'd like to think I could have real power, and there's not seven of us; Garcia isn't here."

"She may not be here, but she's with you, none the less."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"What do you think real power is?"

Reid just stared at Martha and Sera. "I know that magic is all about distraction."

"True power comes from the heart, from love and from trust. You're all family. You've survived pain that would have broken you had you not stood together."

They didn't realize that they had formed a circle around the table. Detective Drake raised his eyebrows at Sera. She smiled back at him. "You have to stay here," she said.

"It's my case," he retorted. "I owe it to Amber's parents. I promised I'd find her."

"I'm sure they'll make sure you get credit for the bust." She whispered.

"Why is this so important?"

Sera took his arm. "It's important because it's their fate."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me."

Martha motioned to Sera, who pulled away from Detective Drake. She went to the cupboard and drew out a large pot. She filled it with water and set it on the table.

"There are many myths about pools of water and mirrors. Some say they are portals to other worlds. If you know how, you can move from one dimension to another."

"She's right," JJ said suddenly. "I remembered something from before, walking into a pool of water and then I was in my hotel room."

Her face went white and she clutched at the edge of the table. "Oh God, I just remembered something. It was the most terrifying thing." She began to shiver. "Something came out of the mirror and grabbed me. It was two black hands. They pulled me in. I don't remember after that."

"You're strong enough to go back there," Martha said. "You have your family here and at home. They will give you strength."

"I'm okay," JJ said to Hotch. "Let's just go."

"How?"

"Join hands, and you," Martha indicated JJ. "The knowledge is within you."

Morgan didn't look convinced but he took JJ's hand. The rest of them joined their hands as JJ reached out and touched the still surface of the pure water.

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When Reid blinked, he wasn't in Martha's kitchen anymore. He stood in a cavern that reminded him of something out of a movie with wavering golden light and torches set into the stone walls at varying intervals. "Where are we?"

Hotch made a sawing motion across his throat and pointed to a large cave-like opening about twenty yards away. They all drew their guns and moved as one through the carved opening and into a huge room.

At the far end of the room stood a pole and lashed to the pole was a young woman with long blond hair draped over half her face. She was on her feet, but sagged against the ropes. She appeared to be unconscious. JJ started forward into the room, but Hotch stopped her with a look. He gestured silently to an area to the left of the young girl.

Now they could hear chanting from a high-pitched voice. Candles burned wavering shadows into the jagged edges of the stone walls. A shadow rose from the floor and stood up. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a human being, one that stepped toward the young girl tied to the stake.

"Stop," Hotch shouted into the incense-laden room. "FBI, put your hands on your head and turn around, slowly."

The figure stopped but did not turn around.

"I said," Hotch, repeated as they slowly advanced on her in the golden light over stone floors. "Put your hands on your head."

The figure began to turn and they all lifted their guns in unison. "I said," slowly," Hotch repeated.

The face that presented to them was unlike anything Reid had ever seen. It was like something out of a Poe inspired dream or a Lovecraftian nightmare. It was half formed with one perfect blue eye and one eye white with the cataracts of an old woman. The skin was raw in places and perfectly rose and white in others. Smooth bone showed through at one cheek and at the forehead and chin. The figure raised a hand and it was skeletal like the hand of Caron.

"How did you get here?"

Her voice grated like door hinges that desperately wanted oil.

"Put your hands on your head," Hotch said for a third time.

The figure laughed and the one good eye winked at him. "I don't know how you got here, but you will not stop me."

She strode toward JJ, "You dare bring them here. I'll break your neck myself."

"Stay back."

The figure ignored Morgan, so Hotch shot her. She stumbled but continued toward JJ. "You're pathetic weapons are nothing to me."

Rossi and Reid also shot, but the bullets hit without result. Morgan grabbed JJ's hand and pulled her aside as the figure neared. "My name is Abigail Hawthorne, Mistress of Satan. You will join the daughters of my enemies as sacrifices."

She reached out for JJ but something seemed to stop her as she attempted to make contact with JJ's arm. Something sparked and the figure that called itself Abigail Hawthorne stumbled back.

"No," Abigail growled. "How is this possible?

Rossi crossed himself and said something under his breath that Reid couldn't hear. He took Reid's hand and nodded to Blake who took Reid's other hand. They formed a circle around Abigail, the guns holstered and forgotten.

"Remember what Martha said," Rossi remarked. "It's two minutes to midnight. We can to this."

"You have no power here." The thing screamed at them. "I will have my revenge."

She jumped to her feet and reached out for JJ. Once again, she was shocked but also thrown back, but she didn't hit the stone floor. Instead, she floated in mid air as if held there by an invisible tether. "Let me go," she shrieked. "You have no right."

"You have no right," Hotch said in a voice that rang through the room. "Abigail Hawthorne, we condemn you and command you to return to Hell."

She threw her head back and shrieked loud and long, an ululating scream that went on and one until another spark flashed over her cadaverous form. Her black cloak burst into orange and red flames. She writhed in agony as the flames leapt higher.

"Don't break the circle," JJ shouted.

"Master, help me, please."

The flames engulfed her and then there was nothing left but ash on the floor as grey white as storm clouds.

Rossi genuflected again and they all dropped hands. "Is it over?"

"Yes," Morgan said. "I don't know how, but it is over."

"How are we going to get out of here?" Reid wanted to know.

"Over there," JJ said.

She pointed to a large pool of water set in the floor. "That's what I used the last time I was here."

Hotch, Blake and Morgan were untying Amber. "Let's get her out of here," Blake said.

"How are we going to explain all of this?"

Rossi put a hand on Reid's shoulder. "We'll think of something."

Reid watched them take Amber to the pool. Her head lolled to one side and they couldn't wake her, but she seemed to be okay. He wondered how long it would be, before she and JJ felt safe again.


	21. Epilogue

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n thank you all for you support. I truly appreciate everyone that has reviewed, added this to their favorites or follows. I'm glad you enjoyed the story. _**

**_Epilogue_**

Reid stared at the plastic box that held all of his Halloween decorations. It was nine am on Halloween morning and he still hadn't put them up. Normally, they went up on the first day of October, but this year… He kept telling himself that he was just too busy that year, but the truth was, he didn't feel like celebrating for so many reasons.

He sighed and picked up the box. He'd put it back in storage for next year. Missing one year didn't matter, because it was a stupid, childish obsession. He was a grown man, after all and all of this Halloween stuff belonged to kids.

He stood up at the same time that someone knocked on his door. He started and almost dropped the storage box. No one was supposed to bother him because Hotch had said they had a long weekend after the Danvers case.

He shook his head and went to the door when another knock sounded.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, open the door, Reid."

"Emily," he squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, to expect to hear from me this morning."

"Yeah, but I thought you'd call."

"Are you going to ask me to come in?"

"Oh yeah, um sure, sorry."

She wafted past him on a cloud of the same musky perfume he'd remembered from her days at Quantico. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders to touch the blue jean jacket she wore over a red and white plaid shirt and blue jeans.

"Wow, I thought this place would be decorated to the hilt. It is your favorite holiday."

He shut the door and went to the couch. "I guess I didn't feel like it this year."

"You didn't feel like it."

She sat down next to him and took his hand. He didn't pull away because somehow he'd been craving human contact so much since… He ducked his head because the tears that always seemed so close to the surface threatened to overflow.

"Hey," Emily said. "I'm glad I decided to come see you. I've been worried about you ever since Hotch called me about what happened to Maeve. I've wanted to talk to you for so long."

He nodded his head and bit the inside of his cheek so he didn't give into the tears. "You came all the way here just to talk."

She reached out and pushed his chin up so he had to look at her. "Yeah, I am the boss, so I told my team a friend needed me and I'd be back on Monday. Besides, I want to go see a Phantasmagoria show, if it's not too late to get tickets."

"I'm really not in the mood, Emily."

"Why don't we just hang out for awhile? If you'd like, later on we can have some hot chocolate and popcorn, and we can watch some Star Trek."

"You must feel sorry for me if you're willing to watch Star Trek."

Emily squeezed his hand so tight he flinched and tried to pull away. "I don't feel sorry for you. You're hurting."

He tugged free and went to his chess table. He picked up a rook and studied it as though he'd never seen a chess piece.

"It's not that bad."

"I know you, Spencer Reid, whether you like it or not."

"I can't talk about it." He said. "Please just talk about something else. Tell me about London."

She sighed and looked at the plastic box with its black and orange Halloween decorations. "I'll tell you if you explain to me what happened in Danvers yesterday."

"You have a deal."

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"So that's it, she just burst into flames and disappeared. I can't believe it."

"I don't know what really happened. All I know is that it's true. We stopped her and that's it. I always wanted magic to be real, but I always knew it wasn't and now I don't know anything. It's like my whole world is upside down."

"You're whole world is upside down because maybe magic is real?"

"No," he went to his little kitchen and poured out two cups of coffee. "It's upside down because I don't know what's real anymore. Maybe this is a dream and none of this is real."

She got up to meet him as he came back with their coffee. "You're not going to wake up and find that you've dreamed the last nine months, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, I know that's not going to happen. It just feels surreal. The cops and the town council of Danvers think we're crazy. I feel for Detective Drake. He said it was okay, that if they thought he was Danver's answer to Fox Mulder, he'd get used to it."

They went back to the couch as the late morning sun threw a long shadow over the east-facing window of his apartment.

"I know the Sandersons are on their way back to Danvers."

"I couldn't find anything to implicate them," Reid said after a sip of coffee. "The company did create a new faster and hotter burning accelerant for a government contract, but there was no evidence that anyone used it. Their entire inventory was accounted for."

"Then why did they run."

"That's another mystery that we'll never solve. I think they just wanted to get away from the place where they lost their daughter. I can relate to that."

"Running away doesn't help, believe me, I know."

He smiled at her. "Why don't we take a little walk? It looks like a nice day."

She held out her arm. "I'd love to walk with you, Sir Spencer."

He took her arm and let her lead him out of the apartment. He looked back at the box of decorations on his table. Maybe when they returned he'd rethink his determination to let the holiday pass him by.

_**THE END**_


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